Holmgang
by Yoshiyuki Ly
Summary: Let blood spill, not pride or will, before we say what makes us ill.
1. My Friends

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy X or X-2. I don't receive any profit from writing this—only pain.

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_Seize it. _

Hundreds of thoughts at a hundred miles per hour, as fast as I go now on this motorcycle, wondering how my life will end. Seventeen is too young to think about this shit—that's what anyone else would tell me. Cold emptiness of night and speed blow through my hair. I grip the handles. I shut my eyes and consider: I could betray his trust for the hell of it. No one else comes to Bevelle's Highbridge this late at night. I could get away with it. If I decide he's a fool for trusting me, I could make him pay.

He stands at the far end of the bridge in my path, at attention, wearing the military cadet dressphere we stole from my father's closet. He trusts me to stop before hitting him. He thinks I'm not high on this speed, blood pumping, teeth gritting from trying to contain myself. The image of me colliding into him won't leave me. After all we've been through, it stays with me, _because _I shouldn't do it. I think and think of it because it's wrong, because I will never get to do it. I can only know it's wrong by thinking of it as if I'll go through with it. Fantasizing about it is all I can do. It's the only way I can live another life.

I wonder if he thinks I'll actually kill him. I'm getting too close. Will he jump out of the way? Would the rest of our friends miss him if he died tonight? Would they forgive me? I want to scare him. Do I see his knees shaking? I think he's scared now.

He isn't. Or he is, and he trusts me to come to a stop, as I do now. I veer the motorcycle out of his path and slow down. I stop. He's completely still. I set the motorcycle along the wall behind him, frowning at the reds there. I smell something foul; I turn around. From the glow of the overhead watch lights, I see a distinct stain in between his legs. I smirk and walk in front of him.

"I'll be damned," I say, heels clicking. "I really _did _see your knees shaking." This stench from him gives it away all the more. I have to keep from laughing. "You pissed yourself, Baralai."

He groans, loud, and falls to his knees, clutching his waist. "To hell with you, Paine!" he shouts, muffled from being bent over. I can't keep from laughing anymore. "I knew you weren't going to run me over—you would've fooled anyone else!" Baralai makes a sound of disgust over the mess before changing dresspheres to his jade robes. "You're lucky no one else saw that. We could've gotten arrested, you know!"

I offer him my gloved hand. "We didn't, right?" Baralai glares at me and accepts my help. I pull him to his feet. "I told you to live a little. All that time you spend in the temple is making you soft."

"You think almost _killing_ me was supposed to snap me out of it?!"

"Maybe," I say, humoring him.

Baralai has been my best friend ever since we were nine years old. Our parents know each other from Yevon's high society. A long time ago, they thought it would be nice for us to have an arranged marriage. The General's daughter, the High Priest's son. Sounded perfect on paper for a while.

That's until I turned thirteen and had a one-on-one with my mother. She explained to me the things she'd noticed over the years: how I had an obsession with cutting my hair on my own despite how much trouble it got me in, that she could never get me to wear a dress, and the way I treated my best female friend… I guess my mother _knew _all that time. She promised to get me out of the marriage thing without spilling my business to everyone. I did tell Baralai on my own what really happened. He tried to hate me over it, because of his beliefs. That didn't go too well for him.

To this day, I'm still not sure if he actually wanted to go through with it or not. Better not to ask.

Baralai folds his arms, glancing at the motorcycle behind us. "Are we just leaving this here?" he asks.

"We can't take it into the city with us," I remind him, heading through the double doors back to Bevelle. The streets are too crowded at this late hour. It makes me paranoid for a few moments; gives me a bad feeling that something may happen tonight. "I don't want any cops stopping us over using _forbidden _machina. Better to leave it where we found it. Whoever left it there probably did it for a reason."

"I suppose you're right," he agrees. Seems like he's over it. "Feels like a waste, though. It's a nice bike."

I tilt my head back to look up at the starry sky, seeing the endless possibilities there. I wonder… "Then tell someone in that fake ass clergy of yours to change the rules," I suggest. Baralai laughs, but it's a weak, powerless sound, coming from him. "Bribe them. You know what they like. You're always saying they'll do anything to get ahead."

"Okay, bribe them with what?" he asks, though I know he won't go through with it.

I shrug, glancing at the nearby, towering buildings to make sure we're headed downtown. "Anal sex?" I ask, loud enough to make passerby gape at me. Baralai pales. "Blowjobs? I don't wanna imagine how either of those would go with their old, wrinkled pricks—"

"Paine!" he hisses at me, like he wants me to keep my voice down. I roll my eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? The high priests _don't _do that! They're celibate!"

"They've _really _got you brainwashed if you think that," I say, pitying him. "You're a pretty guy. Why else do you think they picked _you _out of thousands to be the Praetor's apprentice?"

Baralai sighs. "Right, I get it, you don't believe in Yevon and you never will," he tells me. I shake my head, agreeing with him—for once. "But, Paine, I wish you could see that not all of the priests and Maesters are corrupt. I know that we don't exactly have a clean record. What I don't understand is why you can't at least take my word that things will get better."

"Because you're ignorant and I feel sorry for you."

He stops walking with me. I keep going for a few more paces, stomach churning. I know this silence from him; what it means. We both know what's about to happen. He doesn't stop it, and says to me:

"I see why you're this passionate about it," he starts, stepping toward me. "You think hating Yevon will actually make a difference. As if disrespecting the teachings will suddenly change the world—make Spira accept people like you." I scowl, trying to tell myself that he's not speaking. It isn't working. _People like you_. The words echo in my memory, painted by bigotry. "I accept you because you're my friend. I struggled with it for a long time—you know that. It would be far easier to hate you right back."

I turn around, blocking out the crowd around us. "You think I hate _you_?" I ask, disbelieving.

"You hate what I believe in and what I stand for," he says, pulling at his robes. "Isn't that the same?"

"Why the hell do you hang around me if you think that?"

He points behind him as if referring to the motorcycle we left behind, red in the face. "_That's _why!" he says, barely keeping his voice down. "Because no matter who you like, how much leather you wear, how short you keep your hair, or how much your father is ashamed of you, you're my best friend!"

"The hell I am," I scoff. Baralai's eyes widen; his mouth curls down in anger. "You _barely _accept me. It shouldn't even be about acceptance! I need to just _be _without someone fucking judging me. If you understood how I feel, you'd—"

"—I'd _what? _What, Paine? Change the teachings and make the citizens forget why they're afraid of you? Change the world for you?"

I look away from him. Baralai pauses to take in the words he didn't mean to say. He fools me into believing he's considering it all.

He isn't. He won't. He never will.

I leave him standing there. It feels like I can't distance myself from him no matter how far I walk. I want him to. I want him to use his power to change the face of Yevon itself. I want him to persuade the people that they're wrong about me. I want him to change every single perspective in Spira to align with mine, to make me feel _normal_, like I'm not hated anymore, so that I won't have to keep looking over my shoulder just for being myself.

I know he can't, so I won't say the words. There's no point in telling him if he won't make it come true. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could…with time. It's that thought that keeps me coming back to the idea. I accepted a long time ago that I will never be normal. What I can never accept is the stigma that comes along with it. There shouldn't _be _a stigma.

There's only one place I can go at a time like this. Only one place that will accept me. I turn the next corner and go into the abandoned bakery here. It's not the bakery I care about—it's the huge backroom that matters. No one ever comes here unless they know for damn sure what they're looking for.

This hole-in-the-wall for a club goes by The Saint, hidden just enough here. The bass from the music doesn't reach outside; the general noise from outside doesn't reach us here. Always this same red lighning because the owners can't risk anything more, hard-hitting stench of sweat from the people getting too wild on the dance floor; drag queens and drag kings and straights who just want to party and gays who need to get away, the normal ones who only want a drink and the outrageous ones in too-big wigs and jumpsuits and stilettos all in one place. I thrive on the diversity in here, like a much-needed overdose from how stagnant the rest of the city is. I need this extreme to make up for the imbalance.

I take a seat at the bar and slip enough gil to the bartender. He knows to make my sangria the way I like: light on the alcohol so it doesn't distract me. I only drink here because it's the thing to do. I can't say anyone's ever approached me before. I stare down at my glass, wondering if I should find a girl to talk to. There is only one I've ever wanted for more than sex, but she's—off-limits. That's a good word for it. Now I can't stop thinking about her…

The woman sitting next to me stares at my neck, my shoulders. I tense up. She's about to start small talk with me. I finish off the rest of my drink and leave the bar. I go in the middle of the dance floor and blend in there, standing in place. I stare at my boots, slow down my breathing and unclench my fists.

I don't get why I'm this angry. Maybe because of my principles: I promised myself a few years ago that I wouldn't give just anyone the time of day. It can't be someone in a club that I don't know at all. Like I have any other choice… I have no idea how people _get to know_ each other in this kind of place. I won't dance or drink with people I don't know. I don't do hookups. My only two friends, my best friends, shouldn't come here with me. This is a sign that I need to leave—now.

Before I can turn around, that woman taps me on the shoulder. "Hey," she says, walking in front of me. I refuse to look at her; I keep my eyes down. "Don't run away from me this time. I want to talk to you." She uses her long nails to lift my chin. Olive-skinned, dark eyes, dark hair kept up in a long tail, and her smile—the confidence there keeps me scowling. "You come here almost every night and I _never _see you talk to anyone! Why not?"

She's pretty…but I can't do this. "Sorry, I need to go," I tell her, turning around. This is too awkward to handle.

"Isn't your name Paine?" she asks, hurrying to follow me. "Are you with someone? Is that why you don't want to talk to me?" I speed up. "Will you stop? I kinda like you, you know? I want to get to know you! If you're not taken, can't I just—?"

Screams near the entrance make me stop. People scatter and shout at the sudden gunfire. She stays behind me. That's comfort enough to help me think, to see through the sudden confusion. I grab her hand and run with her to the back exit. Too many others are panicking, looking for their friends. Only a few ahead of us are on the same page, sprinting through the sweat and swearing to get to this door.

We get there and push through outside. This sudden cold makes me stop to catch my breath. I look around; no police; the others run in different directions. This woman—I don't even know her name—I point her toward the crowded street. I can handle myself better without her company.

"Go there," I tell her, leaning against the building. "You look normal enough—they won't suspect anything—" She tries to bring me with her; I pull away. "I said go!"

She gives me an apologetic look. I look away from her. We could get caught any second and she chooses _now _to get all sentimental on me. Before I can tell her to go again, she gives me a light kiss. It's her essence, her kindness that makes it feel this soft; makes me think back to my first one not that long ago. It's not the same; it's not something that can ever be repeated. I lean my head back against the cold surface, watching her go. This would have been much worse if I knew her at all. If I gave her a chance…

I can't stay here. If the cops are out like this, the whole city is awake. I won't be able to sneak back home without my parents catching me. They'll know I was here. I'm distracted, thinking about them, and run down the same street as the others who were ahead of me. I think I won't get caught; or, if I do, it'll be better than having to deal with my father. There's one other place I could go to spend the night…

I see people who were in the club with me—on the ground, piled over each other, dead from gunfire. I stop. I don't see _her_. Someone in a military uniform grabs me. They lock my arms behind my back before I can react. Other cops and military officials draw closer, dragging along _people like me _into caravans. All of them are bloody and bruised from putting up a fight. I realize why I don't have to—or maybe I do, that much harder.

I smell a familiar stench from this man's uniform—his pants. All the years we've known each other flash through my mind: times we've laughed, times we've argued and made up. He can't _betray_ me.

"Baralai!" I hiss at him, struggling against his hold. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Changing the world!" He shoves me away, and draws his rifle. "Now run! I'll fire to keep my cover. I won't hit you! Just trust me!"

I trust him. I break into a sprint. I can't look back. Even though I should be back there fighting for my rights, I know I'll only end up killed if I don't leave. Even though I can't see from how blurry my vision is, I keep going. Down the street, letting my feet take me to my only sanctuary left; his bullets miss me, firing past, denting and cracking the walls of the buildings closest to me. I turn the corner leading to this alley I remember well, and stop to catch my breath.

Somehow I feel Baralai's pain before hearing him cry out. I look around this corner and spot the other police ripping off his helmet. They know what he's done. They know who he is. Baralai clasps his hands together, begging, apologizing—that makes me think they'll have mercy on him, turn him in to his father and let the temple take care of it. I sigh in relief, thankful for once for Baralai's status in the city.

One of the cops aims his rifle in Baralai's face and praying hands. He fires point-blank. Dead, lifeless, Baralai falls backward to the ground, bleeding there, alone. He is ignored; he is no one to them.

I stumble back around the corner, pressing hard against the building behind me. I can't…don't know what to do, what to think, what to see, what to _breathe_… He told me to run. He told me to trust him. He said he'd change the world just for letting me go—and then—_this_? Police officers wearing the Yevon symbol on their uniforms motherfucking shot him in cold blood! I don't want to believe this. It's not real. None of this is. I'll wake up tomorrow, drag him away from his temple studies when I'm not supposed to, he'll act like he's annoyed with me but he'll leave with me anyway, and we'll go hang around the upper-district and not care about people turning their noses up at my clothes, talk about the way things are, joke about how he'll never find a girlfriend who knows him better than I do, and…and…

My boots are soaked from my emotions when I realize the worst of it:

I didn't even thank him…not just for that—for everything he's done for me. Trusting me and believing in our friendship even though the teachings say we can never co-exist. The teachings that rule Spira. He went against them every single day.

He _did _change the world…in his own way. I should have noticed before—

I look up to the windows of the homes above. Window curtains shift and flutter; I hear echoes from windows having been slammed shut from minutes ago. All those people care about are their safety, not what I just lost. Like they closed themselves off to my pain, ignoring me, like those men did to Baralai, because a part of me died with him.

But there is one window that stays open, as if the person there actually cares. I know who that person is… She hurries around the corner with a sweater over her nightgown, rushing over to me.

Yuna holds me without a word. She doesn't know what's happened yet. She thinks maybe it's something she can take care of just by being here for me. I don't say anything when she has us go around the building to enter the lobby of her complex. It's always cold in here. She keeps her arms around me, guiding me to the elevator. I stare at the doors in disgust, because they're not supposed to be here. All of these exceptions to the teachings for convenience; but Yevon forbid I love a woman out of fucking _convenience _because I'd be unhappy with a man. Isn't that convenience enough? My own well-being?

"Paine?" she asks, ushering me gently through the open doors. She's _so_… "Whatever it is, it can certainly wait until we're inside… I just…I want you to know that I can tell it's something terrible. I heard the gunfire outside…"

When she says things like that, it makes me think she already knows. And not just about Baralai…

I've known her for a little longer than I…_knew_ him. The three of us were a team. I can't tell her. I have to. It'll devastate her. I don't want her to cry. I don't want her to find out from someone other than me, and risk her crying in someone else's arms. If she's going to be upset, I want to be the one to protect her.

We get to her apartment on the fourth floor. Her home at night has always reminded me of the temple, with the decorations and sculptures everywhere, and how dark it is. Her father, Braska, is asleep in his room on the other side. Yuna is careful to stay quiet enough to not wake him. We go to her room.

Yuna closes the door behind us. This glow from the moonlight makes her room feel ethereal, as if Baralai is here with us already. When she walks behind me and holds me around my waist, leaning her head against my shoulder, I forget myself all over again. She makes me feel so warm, sincere, and honest, as if I could keep living every day with these emotions to sustain me alone. I have to tell her the truth…

"Yuna…"

She shakes her head, holding me tighter. I _feel _her against my back. "You don't have to tell me right away," she says, forever considerate. "You're upset. I don't like seeing you this way."

The words come spilling out: "They killed Baralai…" She's scared. She hitches and holds me tighter than I can remember. She's listening, she wants answers. Even though I feel her pain rolling down my back, thickly, I tell her everything that happened. My own pain has changed to pure anger, loathing— "He was in his cadet dressphere, the one we took from my father. You know it was just a joke…we were gonna put it back… I guess Baralai heard that there was supposed to be a raid on The Saint and he made sure I got away. He made me promise to run…and I did. I blew his cover anyway. The other cops saw his face—they fucking saw him, _knew it was him, _had the damn Yevon symbol on their uniforms and they killed him in the middle of his _prayers_—"

Yuna falls to her knees, sobbing. I'm quick to turn around and kneel with her, holding her, hoping in vain to pull her away from the reality around us. I want to tell her more than what I've said; I want to take her mind off of this, and tell her the rest of what I've been keeping from her. But I can't help feeling like…

"I all but killed him myself," I tell her. Yuna quiets down a little, looking up at me in question. "We got into an argument over the same damn thing right before I went to the club. If I hadn't gone there, we were going to come here…he would have been safe here. He'd still _be _here if I didn't…"

She shakes her head, moving to speak softly in my ear: "No…please, don't say that. If you go on blaming yourself, nothing will change… You'll go back to being angry all the time, I won't know where you are again, and we'll drift apart. We have to stay together through this. I need you…now more than ever."

I move my hands to her face, to make her look at me. After all that's happened—not just tonight—I feel like I can never tell her. I will never have her. She's meant to marry some straight-edged, religious guy who doesn't run the streets with a passive death wish. The guy will take care of her father once Braska is older and needs the help, the two will get married and have children that are happy and ignorant, and they'll all be a family with safety and security—

Such a strong image of me stopping all of that… Erasing it all, crossing it out with this love I have for her, telling standards and society to go fuck themselves: I _want _to. I want to tell her. I want to kiss her, softer and harder all at once than that woman did to me. Yuna thinks the first and only time we kissed was only for fun, only to try it, only as a secret for us to keep.

When she says things like that—that she needs me—it gives me hope.

I can't hope anymore. All of my hope died with Baralai. If Yevon has to exist, I hoped they'd at least be consistent in their hatred of others. They killed one of their own.

I will never understand why this breaks me.

"Yuna, I'm sorry," I say, pulling away. "I can't…_live _with this. This city is a festering pool of hypocrisy. This whole fucking _world _is for believing in Yevon!" I stand up in a rush. Yuna is slow to stand with me. "I'll never forgive Spira for breeding monsters like that, who can just _kill _someone begging and praying for his life. I won't accept it!"

"Then what…will you do?" she asks, helpless. "What can you do to make things right?"

If anyone else asked me that, I would go off on them. When Yuna says it, she sounds genuinely curious. It warms me; it scares me, because it reminds me of how badly I want to stay with her.

"I have to leave," I say at last. Yuna's eyes widen, like she'd do anything to change my mind… "I don't want them to kill you too, just for being around me… I feel like that's why they did it to him. They saw me around with him all the time, assumed he's _like me_, and—" I shut my eyes over that possibility, that truth. I really did kill him… That means they might do the same to her. "I'll do anything to protect you, so I have to go." I make my way to her bedroom door, shutting my eyes. "Take care of yourself, Yuna—"

"—Paine!" she shouts, scaring me in place. I don't turn to look at her. Yuna _never _raises her voice. "_Leaving _me is no way to fix things! You can't go! Other than you, Baralai was my only real friend… He's no longer with us; if _you _leave, I won't know where you are, and it will be as if you died, too! I don't want this to break us apart!"

I push my fist against the door, wishing she would make this easier on me. "Baralai…isn't the only reason why I have to leave you," I tell her, cryptic enough to make her calm down. My throat and chest constrict. I don't want to say it. I'll kill her all over again if I say it— "Yuna…"

Her presence behind me softens and clears. She moves to take the small space in front of me, between my body and the door. This kindness, this vulnerability about her—I want her in my arms, all night, protecting her from the world and its lies. Yet the thought of telling her, of showing her, makes me nauseous, as if I'll throw up the words in blood instead of doing anything right.

That possibility feels all the more real when she holds my face in her small hands; far too perfect to hold onto anything I'm worth.

"That time…wasn't only an experiment," she says, referring to that kiss we shared months ago. I look away from her. "I wanted you to do more to me. Seeing you like this now…I know that you want the same things. So, please—please, don't leave me, Paine—"

An image of Yevon storming her apartment and killing her and her father—

"No!" I move her to the side. She's hurt. She's crying again. I _can't_. "You won't end up dead like him! I won't risk your life all for some fantasy that can never be! The harder I love you, the harder they'll look for you—they'll _find _you, Yuna!" I pull the door open and storm out of her place. "Now let me go!"

Yuna runs after me, down the hall, out the door. I take the stairs, jumping down each flight, trying to drown out the sounds of her begging me to stay. All I hear is her begging a cop to not kill her for loving me back; every time my heels slam down on the floor, it sounds like gunfire point-blank over her beautiful face. I don't run home, because I know all she'll do is follow me, and we'll have a repeat of this all over again.

I leave Bevelle. I see that motorcycle against the wall of the Highbridge. Yuna won't leave her father without notice; I sure as hell leave both of my parents without a word—an extreme to keep her from following me. Even if she hates me for this, never forgives me for this, I don't deserve her. I shut my eyes and sprint down the impossibly long path before me, pretending I'm back on that bike and Baralai is on the other end, trusting me not to kill him.


	2. My Enemies

I'm too numb to think anymore, to cry, or to hate. I need to be numb to this freezing cold to survive. I didn't think this through. There's no turning back for me. I have to keep going.

Endless drear and downpours of the Thunder Plains used to be something I could only imagine. Living it, breathing it, dragging my feet through this mud, and feeling like I'm going nowhere—it makes me forget the city I left behind. Not the people. I would do anything to forget the rest; to forget the feelings I have—or had—for Yuna; to forget the friendship I had with Baralai; to forget the toxic relationship I had with my father. The last thing he said to me, a few weeks ago, was that if I ever show my face to him again, and I still insisted on this _gay thing_, that I had to bring a proper woman home. Whatever _that _means, coming from him. I don't care about what he wants from me, but that stupid order of his was his subtle way of showing me he started to accept me. My mother smiled for the first time in months when he said it.

Now…it doesn't matter. I'll never see them again. I keep walking, I keep breathing in the rain to forget how much it'll devastate my mother. I don't want them to find me. I can't stay in the next town over. I need to go as far as I can, so there's no chance for them to try taking me back. I need to keep going until I find that _one_ wall I can't climb over or walk around. The one that keeps me in place, telling me I've found where I'm looking for. I've never seen any such thing, but I'll know when I see it. _I_ _have_ _to_.

Days pass. I don't eat, because I have no weapon to hunt with. I don't sleep, because I have no weapon to protect myself with. I drag myself past the travel agency, because I have no money to sleep there. Weapon, money…I don't have either of the most essential things _normal _people bring with them on long journeys. I left Bevelle with only the clothes on my back and the convictions in my heart. Those are supposed to be the most important. They're supposed to keep me alive…my feelings…my identity. I collapse on the road, drained, and empty. They _will_ keep me alive.

I think about going in the travel agency just to sit in the lobby, to warm myself up, to bury my face in my lap and cry, until someone realizes I have no money and kicks me out.

I won't lose my dignity like that over a place to sit. Steadily, I pick myself up, running on adrenaline alone. I vow to keep going until I find that wall, that roadblock that I absolutely can't pass. I _need _to find it to get rid of this agony, wondering about those I've lost and left behind.

Another day passes before I reach the next town. It's filled with people I rarely saw in Bevelle—the Guado: tall, lanky, reptilian-looking people that are all too stuck-up and into their lives to notice me passing through. I guess if someone with my kind of clothes is no big deal to them, they must get all types of people who journey through here. I'm relieved when no one stops to stare at me, or judge me. I should have come here a long time ago. Despite that, I don't feel that this is what I'm looking for.

I look up to the sky-ceiling, to the matching ground, wondering why someone would build a town inside of what looks like a tree. "This is Guadosalam," I mumble to myself, too in-awe to remember my hunger; the pounding pain in my head and limbs. High above the winding paths, I see the longest of them all, leading to an opening with pyreflies coming out. "And that's the Farplane…"

As I make my way there, I hear people whispering in a panic over recent news from my hometown. They lament Baralai's death—with enough distance and respect that it doesn't make me protective of him. They don't act like they knew him…they're more upset over the way he died, the ones who killed him. I hold that memory with me as I go along the winding path of the Farplane.

I'm slow to ascend the stairs leading to what looks like a bunch of fog. I can't see what's so great about it, not from down here. I have to focus on getting there. If I think about how long it's been since I've eaten, or if it's normal to feel this warm when I'm supposed to be cold, I'll lose my momentum.

When I reach the top to the stone platform, the fog clears. This discovery sates my hunger and weaknesses. An eclipsed moon shines overhead, over me; over the endless fields of flowers and waterfalls of the Farplane Glen far below where I stand. There are a couple of Humans here who look like soldiers, talking to apparitions of people they once knew. They all look angry, just as those Guado did—they talk about what happened in Bevelle, how it's making them doubt. I don't listen in any more.

I walk to the edge of this path in the sky. Baralai's illusion shows up before I consciously tell myself to think of him. "Hey," I tell him, lamely. I look down at my boots, fighting off vertigo. "If you made it here…guess that means you didn't try to hold on. Once I leave this place, I won't get to see you again…not for a while. I'll miss you."

His figure stares back at me. It's only pyreflies… _Pyreflies _are what's making me tear up like this. "You don't deserve this," I say, stern enough to hold all of that back. "I've tried…_so hard _to not think of you anymore. I'm trying to run away from it all. That's what you told me to do. I have to keep running until I find a place I can't run from. That border I can't cross… I'll find it. I'll let your memory stay in peace, for you to rest once I get there."

I need to forget him, to get rid of this pain. His apparition starts to fade. I wipe at my face. "Who knows—maybe I'll change the world one day. If I can keep going like this without all the tools, it must mean something…" I look to him just as he disappears. "Right, old friend?"

My reflection takes his place. I take a step back, angry, alarmed. She _looks _like me…except those clothes. Is that a three-piece suit? Why would I wear one of those things? And why the hell am I…_there_?

She hands me a sword and disappears before I can say anything. I take the red hilt in one hand, holding the sharp charcoal-black blade up in the other. There's a skull engraved in the steel here, like an omen. Something about seeing _me _there shatters my resolve. I ignore the logical part of me that wants to demand answers. No one can give me answers to that. It's something I can only figure out on my own, somehow… I leave the Farplane, gripping the handle of this sword; haunted by my own image.

I stumble out of Guadosalam, headed south through the trees at sunset. There are too many people traveling along the dirt paths: more soldiers marching, caravans transporting machina weapons and—something more that I can't bring myself to make sure of. I don't want anyone to see me. I hold my hands out to reach for the next tree to lean on, to help me push forward. Images before me all blur into one, dizzying, spinning.

I'm fine. I'm all right. I tell myself over and over again that I just need to take the next step.

Strong smells of crisp water keep me going in one direction. When the trees end, I see a blurry image of a body of water beside the setting sun. I kneel down right beside it, listening to the pyreflies, smelling the moon lilies to let myself know that I'm still alive. My reflection is too distant for me to see in the water.

I want to ask it why I saw myself on the Farplane. Why Baralai had to go there this soon. And why the hell is someone walking over here? Do I honestly look that pathetic?

He's careful as he steps toward me. Sandals and a low-ranking, hand-me-down military uniform—something my father would probably scoff at. He can't be with Yevon in that old get-up. He doesn't look like he's that much older than me—maybe a few years. I look away from the guy; whatever's wrong with me, I still notice the resemblance. That unwanted, unwarranted resemblance.

"Hey…you okay?" he asks, tentative, with an islander's accent. "That sword…you must be one of us, ya?" I use the coat of sweat over my forehead to slick my hair back from over my face. _No, _I'm not one of you. I have no idea what he's talking about. "C'mon, you're not the only one who got worked like a dog today. This fieldtrip turned out to be anything but _fun_, you know?" He offers his hand to me. I glare at it. He's unfazed; he _smiles_ at me. "Let's get on the Shoopuf, ya? We can finally get some food!"

I decide that I'm impressed with him treating me this way despite my attitude. I stand on my own, only using my sword to help me up. Everything seems clearer now, with the mention of food. I've forgotten the last time I ate a real meal—something that could fill me up. When we board the Shoopuf to cross the Moonflow, and I see someone familiar, I'm too out-of-it to know how to react.

Short, greedy, bald, fat with power, and the _worst_ kiss-ass I have ever had to meet: Maester Mika smiles when he sees me, extending his arms, like he actually thinks I want to hug him. "Well, if it isn't General Nyte's daughter, Paine!" he says, in this jolly-fucking-tone that makes me want to strangle him. "Your ol' dad finally let you join the Crusaders, hm? Thought he'd never budge! He always did say he could never stand to let his only girl go off to war… Seems like recent events have made us all change our minds."

I sit across from Mika—away from Mika—next to that other guy from earlier who's looking at me like he wants to know more about me. I don't say anything when he offers me the military rations from the middle of the transport. I'm grateful enough that I can actually eat, even if it means having to pretend like I'm here to fight. Mika tells the rest of the Crusaders around us about me, who my father is, and how _talented _I was back in Yevon's youth group before I graduated. Most of them look pleased about having me around, since they think I know how to fight.

I don't. I've never wielded a sword in my life before today. All I learned in school was a bunch of theory.

When that guy stares at me again, I realize that I only have two options at this point: stay and fight—and die—or run away again. The Crusaders only _fight_ against Sin. I look back to the Shoopuf following behind us: it's transporting Sinspawn. They're supposed to be bait for Sin. I see blonds on the Shoopuf in front of us. _Al Bhed. _Yevon is working with the Al Bhed and the Crusaders to take down Sin…

_This is serious_. I have to get the hell out of here.

By the time night falls, Maester Mika and most of the Crusaders have already fallen asleep. I've thought about jumping ship and submerging myself until all of the Shoopufs pass, or making a run for it as soon as we reach land, or pretending I'm a soldier and leaving in the middle of the chaos once the fighting starts. This guy next to me has been staring at a picture the whole time. I want to ask him why he looks so sad. He did help me earlier. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't manage to eat.

He looks up when he notices me glancing at him. "Oh, hey," he says, somber. "Still gotta long way to go, ya? Not much to do…" He puts the picture in his pocket. Then he offers me his hand. "Paine, right? Never actually introduced myself. Sorry! The name's Chappu." I shake his hand, firmly, but it feels like my grip is harder than his. He notices, and laughs. "I came all the way here from Besaid. Pretty far-out, you know? Sounds like you didn't have to go that far to get here. Bevelle's just a few days away."

He smiles at me. Something in his eyes is too familiar to me. I raise my eyebrow in question; he stops smiling. I want to explain before he asks, and he does, too, because we say in unison: "You look like someone I used to know."

Chappu laughs. "Kinda creepy, huh?" he says, mirroring my thoughts. I nod. "Well, ladies first! Who do I look like to you? Your cousin, a friend?"

"My best friend…" I trail off. Chappu looks like he wants to know more. Something tells me to trust him with this much. "He was killed the other night—"

"—wait," says Chappu, holding his hands up. "You mean Sir Baralai?!" It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, to hear his name. Chappu doesn't wait for any confirmation—he scowls, surprising me that he's even capable of being angry. He's been so nice to me. "Damn…we all heard 'bout that the day after it happened. Really shook up morale, ya? Is _that _why you joined…?"

I fold my arms, staring out to the sea beneath the stars. "I didn't _join_ anything—you assumed. All I came here for was the food…" He stops scowling. He stares at me with a blank face, and then looks down at my sword. Chappu looks up at me in awe when he hears the passion in my lowered voice: "There's no way in hell I'd fight in the name of Yevon after what they did to Baralai. I don't care if it's the Al Bhed, the Crusaders, or the fayth themselves who decide to team up with Yevon to bring down Sin—it's all a fucking sham. I'm getting out of here the second I can."

"But—" Chappu stammers for a few seconds. I wonder why I'm not annoyed while I wait for him to collect himself. "You lived in Yevon's capital. _Everyone _there believes in the teachings. How can you say those things…?"

"All it means is that I lived so close to the lies, I couldn't keep pretending they were true."

I expect anyone else to be outraged. Chappu doesn't flip out on me at all. He puts his hand over his pocket, thinking for a moment. "I might regret this…" he starts, finding his resolve. "Tell me the biggest lie, ya? The one that gives you the courage to say all this."

"Did the news about Baralai mention _who _shot him?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Chappu shakes his head. I envy his innocence; I want to break it. "Yevon's own police. I saw them do it. Of course, the temple won't let that information out there. It'd ruin their image. The people would lose faith."

Chappu grinds his fist against his seat. He glares at Mika sleeping across from us.

"Even though the news…didn't say it…a lot of people kinda _know_," he says, confirming why I saw those Guado looking angry over what happened. "I didn't wanna believe it—'til you said it. Guess that's just me bein' ignorant, ya? I should'a listened to her…" He gives me a grave look. "You're right, Paine. We gotta leave. For all I know, Yevon could be sendin' all of us into some trap."

I lean back in my seat, satisfied with his thinking. "I'm glad we agree," I tell him.

"Hey, how old are you, anyway?" he asks, honestly curious. I laugh a little at that. "I mean—you give me the impression that you been through a lot, you know? But if I know anything, age don't mean much. Not really."

"You're right," I reply. "I'm seventeen."

Chappu smiles at me. "I thought right," he says, sounding pleased with himself. "I'm only twenty-one. I just ask 'cause of the person you remind me of. You wouldn't _think_ she's twenty-three… She is."

"And who is she?"

"Just a friend of mine from back home, Lulu," he tells me, back to looking somber. I assume she's the one in the photograph he's been staring at. "The two of you are—well—" He buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. I'm intrigued already, but I don't want to pry. "Hey, how 'bout we finish this later? We gotta figure out some way to leave first. The rest'll follow, ya?"

.

When we make it to shore, Chappu and I steal a pair of chocobos from the Chocobo Knights division and make a run for it. I can't believe that we manage to laugh about it. After what happened, I thought I wouldn't laugh again—or at least not this soon. It's not the same as the laughs I once shared with Yuna and Baralai, but I know Chappu will never take their place. He knows it, too. I appreciate that he accepts it, and that he understands that it'll be a while before I can truly laugh again. We head south along the road between Djose and the Mi'ihen Highroad, taking several days to get to the Highroad when it would have taken months on foot. On the way there, Chappu tells me more about Besaid and the nearby town, Balfonheim; he tells me about his brother Wakka and their blitzball team, how all the people there around our age lost their parents to Sin almost two decades ago; how devastated his brother was when Chappu told him about enlisting in the Crusades. I manage to tell him a little about my parents, how I'm not close with them at all; I tell him a few stories about Baralai and Yuna—only ones that don't hurt. We make a silent agreement that I'll go to Besaid with him. Chappu knows I have no place else to go.

He doesn't say another word about the friend he mentioned on the Shoopuf. He hasn't looked at her photograph since then.

It's night by the time we reach the travel agency. We took off the armored barding from the chocobos and threw it into the valley somewhere. There's a chocobo breeder in front of the agency, tending to a few baby chocobos in the corral. Chappu and I look to each other—neither of us have any money. We made do with some stolen rations we packed onto our chocobos before we left the Moonflow. Without a word, I know he's on the same page as me when he takes the chocobos to the breeder. She's excited to take them off our hands in exchange for a few thousand gil. It's enough to get some real food from the travel agency, a room for the night, and to pay for the rest of the way to Besaid.

It surprises me that I don't feel awkward sharing a room with him. There's only one bed. Chappu sleeps on the floor. Earlier, he set his photograph face-down on the nearby nightstand. I stare at it through the dark. It all catches up to me: how much I've been thinking about this person, if only to satisfy my own ego. I used to enjoy thinking that I was unique; that there was no one out there like me. What if he meant that she shares my beliefs? Or do we look alike? Both?

I reach over to take the photo in my hands. It feels worn, as if he takes this with him everywhere. This scribble for handwriting on the back must be Chappu's. It reads: _Black Waltz recital, her 20__th__ birthday. She's never been the same since then. Wonder what happened. _I turn it around to try looking at the picture. There's not much I can make out in the dark. I don't want to wake Chappu by turning on the light.

This is enough—_more_ than enough.

All I see are the contours of her body beneath her long, dark dress and hair. Her body leans back, as if in someone's hold, yet I can tell she's holding herself up; the way she pauses here, the grace with which she holds herself tells me she's dancing. She's flexible. I can't see her face like this. Her body is full, formed; fascinating. There is light shining over her, bringing out the long curve to her neck, the slenderness of her shoulders. I _know_ she's beautiful. It is all-encompassing. I can't think of anything else. I feel her beauty radiating from the picture, through my hands, through—_everywhere._

I set the picture back down where I found it. I stay on my back, staring up at the darkened ceiling, seeing a brand there from how hotly her snapshot burned into my memory. I don't sleep that night. It feels like I don't blink for hours in fear of losing her image.

_Lulu…_

When Chappu and I reach Luca the next morning, he thinks I'm quiet because I'm annoyed with the crowd. He has the picture in his right pocket. I walk on his right side. He sounds excited when he hears the announcement of the blitzball tournament going on today. I don't have to ask if he wants to stay in town to watch.

I _do _have to ask when he starts hurrying me through the blitzball stadium to the locker rooms.

"What's going on?" I ask, annoyed now. Chappu grins from ear-to-ear. "I thought you wanted to watch—"

He stops in front of a door with the symbol for the Besaid Aurochs. "You forgot what I told you!" he says, not sounding disappointed at all. "I used to blitz for my home team, ya? Lost track of time what with Operation Mi'ihen, you know? My boneheaded brother's gonna be so happy to see me again! I get to introduce you two!"

"Wait a minute—" I try to stop him from opening the door, to no avail. I'm not prepared for this. I thought I wouldn't have to meet anyone until we got to Besaid. I thought I wouldn't have to check for someone judging me, asking if I'm gay, why I left Bevelle, if something is _wrong _with me.

He opens the door, and there is his old team. They're in the middle of discussing strategy when they look over at the door, irritated over the interruption, until they notice it's him. They rush at him, overjoyed, picking him up; nearly in tears over having him back. I can tell which one is his brother—the other redhead who towers over him. A small part of me is jealous that he has this many people who care for him. That cynicism finds its way to my face. I don't want anyone to notice, to ask questions. I look away.

Standing next to the lockers is that woman from the photograph. Her shoulders are bare above her floor-length dress—as slender as I remember them from the picture. Her belts adorned all down the front chime in time with her footsteps. She takes a few paces toward me. Her posture is impeccable. Her braids are long; her makeup is dark, exotic. When I make eye contact with her, I regard her with all I've ever known, scowling. She does the same. Such respect she deserves; I want to bow to her. I won't.

I have found the wall I've been searching for, and she is made of ice.


	3. Black Waltz

Lulu doesn't look away from me.

She's the stubborn type, she _has _to be. She doesn't care that everyone else in the locker room is staring at us…staring at each other. Her pearl necklace catches light from overhead; I stop myself like a full-speed train coming to a sudden halt, to keep from looking at her chest. She has stopped a few steps away from me. I'm taller than her with my heels—I can't get away with looking anywhere other than the sharp darkness of her eyes.

I decide, now, under the weight of her gaze, that I will do anything to not disrespect her. I've started to sweat. Luca is too warm. I find that I've made a habit of using the sweat over my forehead to slick back my hair. I don't look away from her. I don't want to feel like I've lost, or to make her think I'm intimidated by her. Her eyes follow my hand. When I move that same hand to my hip, bending one knee, she takes note of the rest of my clothes. She is attentive. She is observant. I'd scoff at anyone else; tell them to mind their own fucking business.

The truth is—I have no idea what she's thinking when she looks at me. I can't begin to imagine. From standing here, sharing this silent moment with her, I can tell what a layered, complex person she must be. Just like that dress of hers, and her hairstyle.

I've forgotten everything outside of this moment. Why I left Bevelle, how I was when I lived there…

Chappu's older brother, Wakka, takes a few careful steps toward us. "Uh…" he starts, rubbing the back of his head. "Lu? You know her from somewhere or somethin'…?" Lulu glares at him. She walks closer to me, tilting her head at an arrogant angle to look up at me again. How am I supposed to respond to that…? "Right… Paine, uhm, thanks for bringin' my brother home. We were real worried 'bout him—"

"—Wakka," she speaks, deepening me with her voice alone. I dare myself to keep looking at her. "This can certainly wait." Lulu glances over at Chappu, glaring. He starts pulling at his hands. "They've been unable to find a suitable replacement for you. Will you be joining them for the tournament?"

Chappu nods, and mutters under his breath: "So much for a hello…"

Lulu scowls, turning her body to face him. She steps toward him; Wakka and the rest of the Aurochs scramble back to move out of her way. I keep my eyes to the decorative pins that keep her braids up. "Oh, Chappu," she says, just short of spiteful. "Forgive me. Did you expect me to forget that you ignored us when we all begged you to stay? Not to mention the sudden decision you made to _save Spira_ the day after I rejected your proposal of marriage."

"Lulu," he mumbles, red in the face and scowling back. She puts her hand over her hip, waiting. Wakka and the Aurochs look as surprised as I feel over the information. "Can't this wait 'til we're alone…?"

"No. You made that decision for us in making that comment," she states, turning away from him. "You should know better than that. There is no need for us to speak in private. I've said all I need to say to you." Lulu surprises me again when she returns to me. "And you. The two of you must have spent quite some time together on your way here. What did he tell you about me?"

This is strange. Lulu strikes me as the stoic type who would keep others out of her business at all costs. Yet here she is, putting me on the spot in front of other people, like they're not here. Why does she _care _what he said about her? And then I remember that she dances—or, she _used _to dance—in front of others, on a stage. Maybe she likes the attention?

Or maybe she's _that _stubborn that she'll do as she wants no matter who's around. If it was only about her, I wouldn't mind. This is my business, too.

I frown at her and ask: "Why do you care?" Lulu narrows her eyes, affronted. "Besides, all he told me was your name and how old you are—"

"—and that was all you had to say," she says, folding her arms.

Suddenly, I'm reminded of every adult ever in Bevelle who tried to demand respect from me _just _because they only saw me as a kid. Something—I don't and will never know what—tells me to give her the benefit of the doubt. Lulu and Chappu have a history together; I can tell. She's obviously bottling up some kind of emotions over seeing him again when she prepared herself for him dying at war. Now she's taking it out on me. I'm _not_ going to bend over and take her fucking attitude like the weak ass men in the room. This is the same thing I do when I don't want people asking questions: act like a bitch and try to discourage them from prying. It always works with the people who aren't worth my time. Except she's way more obvious about it than I am. Or I _think_ it's more obvious, because it's not me. It's like seeing myself from an outsider's perspective. Seeing my reflection… I don't want to feel like I can understand her. I hardly know her. But I _feel like _I do. No wonder I remind Chappu of her.

Lulu's not fooling me with this stoic shit. I remember the way she couldn't take her eyes off of me minutes before. She did it for a reason. I want to know why. I decide to stick around and listen to her; let her say whatever she wants, until she can tell that it's not working. I will keep my promise to myself about respecting her. I want her to _see _that I know better.

"Asking me why I care was truly unneeded," Lulu goes on, making her way out of the locker room. "You don't know me, so I'll give you a pass for now." _Thank you?_ What a fucking stuck-up bitch. "You should take care with how you speak to strangers."

But I can't deny how _hot _she is at the same time. She's not like Yuna at all…why do I feel this way?

She closes the door behind her, nearly slamming it shut. Her displeasure echoes through the room. Wakka, Chappu and the rest of the Aurochs sit down on the benches in the center, all of them hunched over and frowning. I think about the way her braids whipped in her wake as she left; how her dress dragged along the floor as she went. Her photograph gave me such an accurate impression of her: all that obscurity, with scraps of light to work with to make out the rest of the image. That light right now has to be my intuition.

Thinking about that makes me forget I was ever angry at her.

"Sorry, Paine," says Chappu, shaking his head. "You got the rough end of the stick with her mood today." Wakka gives me an apologetic look. I relax my scowl to let him know I'm not pissed at him. "Thought she'd 'least be a _little _happy to see me again! Just never know with her…"

"Is she always like this?" I ask.

No one knows what to say. I don't understand. It's supposed to be either a yes or a no.

Wakka sighs. "I can already hear her lecture if we give you an answer," he says. What the hell does that mean? "The short story is she don't want no one in her business. You wanna know somethin' 'bout her? You gotta ask her yourself, ya? As much as I wanna tell you her deal, that's just how she is." They must be afraid of her if this is how they go about respecting her wishes. Or they care about her; they care that much more about not being on the receiving end of her anger. "Hey, look," he continues, "I appreciate you bringin' Chappu back. I know he saw somethin' in you that reminded him of her." He stares at the door, as if to refer to Lulu. Chappu looks away. "Maybe you were meant to find us… I never seen Lu act that way around anyone before…"

I get it. "You want me to go talk to her," I tell him, getting to the point.

"Well, yeah…" he replies, right before the announcement of the next blitzball game: the Aurochs are up against the Al Bhed Psyches. All of them stand up, rubbing at their necks, pacing around, Wakka included. "She went to the Sphere Theater, guaranteed. I gotta get the boys ready for the match. After what you've done for us, she'll come around eventually, ya? Could you…?"

I leave the locker room. I have no idea where this Sphere Theater is and I don't want to ask. I'm starving, so I decide to find a place to sit down and eat instead. I don't want Lulu to think I care. Not now…

.

This town is much bigger than I thought it was. Luca isn't as confusing as Bevelle. Yet this heat, paired with this impossible crowd weakens me more than I care to admit. I'm sweating too much by the time I find a café in the square. There's nowhere to sit, really; I regret having to sit at a table close to an Al Bhed couple. Both of them jeer at the blitzball game playing on the sphere overhead, practically having forgotten about their food getting cold in front of them. Any other time, I think I would spend more time looking at that girl. She's cute, I'll admit. I wonder for a moment why her boyfriend's wearing an eye patch, if something happened to him.

I look away from them, trying to eat my food in peace. It's a little hard with them shouting over my thoughts.

"Oh, bull_shit_!" the guy shouts, gesturing in anger at the screen when Chappu tackles one of the Psyches. "C'mon, C'MON! Get the fucking ball back! Sleep Tackle the pretty boy already! He's been outta the game for months; he's supposed to be rusty for cryin' out loud! …FUCK!"

"Damn! Did he _have _to come back?" the girl complains when Chappu scores. The rest of the café is too shocked to cheer. "He was the only reason his team ever won anything!" Listening to her helps to keep my mind off of how dizzy I am. I've lost my appetite. "And here I thought we'd _actually _win this year…"

"Gonna lose a lot of money if those punk slackers don't pull it together," the guy mutters.

"A lot…? Like _a lot _a lot?"

He brightens when he notices his girlfriend looks dejected. "Hey, hey! Rikku, babe," he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Don't you worry about a thing, okay? Let your man take care of it! I got it, all right?" He laughs in this way that's supposed to sound reassuring. The girl—Rikku—rolls her eyes. "What? You don't believe me? Hey, c'mon! When have I ever let you down?"

"Oh, I don't know, Gippal!" says Rikku, about to start on a sarcastic tirade. Gippal sighs, annoyed, looking everywhere but at his girlfriend. Then he notices me here, staring at my food. "How about that time you—?"

"Hey!" shouts Gippal, standing. He walks over to me. I ignore him. "Hey, excuse me," he goes on, leaning his forearm over my table. He's bent over with his other hand on his hip, grinning at me. He can't seriously be trying to hit on me while his girlfriend is right there. "Do you—?"

"—I'm not interested," I tell him, not in the mood for whatever this is.

"…not interested in making a good buck?" he asks, like that's supposed to change my mind. Now he sounds like he runs some prostitution act. I'm _really _not interested. "Wait, wait, listen—how old are you? 'Cause depending on your answer, I can give you a fucking good offer either way." I don't answer him. I'm too dizzy to stand up and leave. I grip my cold water, trying to find the strength to drink. "C'mon, c'mon, I've never seen you around here! You'd attract a damn good crowd with the right people behind you!" _What…? _"You've gotta be at least seventeen, right?" I nod, wishing he would leave me alone already. "Now that—is perfect! I run a nightclub, the _hottest _club in Luca, called the Mezzanine! Shows, new music, games, celebrities—the works! And lemme tell you, you've got the look to be a class-act drag king! People would _love_ it!"

Drag king? _Me?_ He can't possibly mean that. Prancing around onstage, pretending to look like a guy? Why would I ever do that?

"Gippal!" His girlfriend yanks him back by his collar. "Stop advertising—she _said _she's not interested! You missed it, we lost!"

Gippal whips around to face the sphere. "We WHAT!?" he screams, stomping his foot. "Fucking hell! That's ten thousand gil I just lost! Son of a bitch!" I take the opportunity to leave, hoping to never run into him again. Something tells me he's bad news.

.

I'm on my way back to the locker room when I notice a sign that points toward the Sphere Theater. I stare down the long promenade that leads there, wondering if I should bother. Wakka _was _nice enough not to judge me. He's a good person, like his brother. I guess I can go talk to Lulu for him, since he asked.

As I walk between all the people carrying balloons and blitzballs, spending time with their friends and family, I get the feeling he wouldn't be so nice if he knew I think she's hot. Just…impossibly hot. Her attitude, the way she carries herself; how she does what she wants no matter who's around. I've tried not to think about it since she left the locker room. But, really, as I notice the musicians and art aficionados amassing outside the huge theater, I tell myself it's pointless to try ignoring her. My only real experience with a girl ended in me running away before anything happened. We had that one kiss. I knew how to treat Yuna as a person—we are, _were_, best friends. After that, I can't say I have any idea how to act in these situations. I've never cared this much about someone I barely know: thinking about them, analyzing their behavior and comparing it to mine. That's way more than I usually care to do with people. Not to mention silently obsessing over how gorgeous she is…

All I know for sure is that I want to be around Lulu as much as possible. I _don't_ want her to know what I think of her…but I don't know that for certain.

I keep from wrapping my arms around myself at the sudden cold in the lobby. The gaudy design of the carpet and all the lighting reminds me of the theaters back in Bevelle. I remember going to shows with my parents when I was younger, when things were okay between us. I hated going to those things.

I probably shouldn't mention that to Lulu. It's not like she'll ask, anyway. Besides, I need to find her first.

I head through to the crowded amphitheater, noticing the violin quintet onstage in the middle of preparing for their next number. People are mostly standing up during the intermission, talking to each other; completely oblivious to what's going on in my mind right now. If I were her, I wouldn't want to be down here in general admission. I turn around to look all the way to the nosebleeds in the back. I wouldn't want to be there, either. She's too good for that—or at least she acts like she is.

When I look up to one of the private balconies, I see her looking down at me in quiet surprise. I linger under her gaze for a while until I remember what I came here to do. I see a number below her, on the front of her balcony where only I can see: G47. I have a section letter and a room number. I make my way to the right floor, weaving through the crowd buying snacks and souvenirs. A few people notice me, my clothes. They comment under their breath, low enough that I don't hear them. I don't care. I just want to find her. She can say whatever she wants to me, as long as it's _her_ speaking, even if she manages to convince me that she's more of a bitch than I thought.

I find her door and knock, loud enough so she can't act like she doesn't hear me. Lulu answers a second later, as if she stood there waiting this whole time I spent walking up here. Her expression is neutral. I'm not sure how I should sound. I decide to put my manners to good use—the ones my parents tried to force me to use to help them keep up appearances.

This is only to flatter her. I _want _to, but I don't want to be obvious about it.

"May I come in?" I ask, killing my cover when I put my forearm over the doorframe, leaning closer to her. Lulu watches my body language. I watch hers. She doesn't move away me. "Or is this a bad time? Intermission's almost over. Wakka asked me to talk to you."

Lulu opens the door all the way, and turns around to go back to the only seat in the darkened room. I close, and lock, the door behind me, taking my time to walk over to her. "And how did you know to find me here?" she asks, eyes set on the stage below.

I lean against the railing of the balcony, folding my arms. "He said you'd be here, guaranteed," I reply. Lulu is subtle, but I notice the way her eyes lose focus of what she's supposed to be looking at. She's watching me out of the corner of her eye; noticing how my body faces her completely. "I guess he was right. But he wasn't specific about why he wanted us to speak. He sounded worried about you."

"_Worried_," she echoes, irritated already. _That_ didn't take long. "He's wasting his time if that's the case." Somehow, I doubt that. Now I'm expecting her to turn the conversation around to make it about me any second now. It's what I would do if I didn't want to talk about my problems. "Why did you agree to this?" This isn't creeping me out at all… "You don't know me, or him. If it had been Chappu who asked you, perhaps I would understand. It must have taken the two of you quite some time to reach Luca."

I'll try to be honest with Lulu as much as possible. Lying to her won't do me any favors. "I can tell Wakka's a good person," I tell her. "That's why." Lulu turns her head to look up at me, confused, right when the quintet starts playing. "I didn't know too many of those back in Bevelle. If I had, I'd probably still be there now. It's hard to want to stay when the cops decide to kill my best friend for no reason."

Lulu widens her eyes at my sincerity. I figure Chappu would have told her eventually. It's better for her to hear it from me.

"Your best friend?" she asks, tentative now. I nod to her. With anyone else, I would have looked away by this point. I _can't_. "You can't possibly mean…Sir Baralai? The High Priests' son? Or has someone else been murdered in Yevon's capital without our knowledge?" I don't have to confirm anything. Lulu takes a few seconds to let my words sink in. "…I'm sorry, for your loss. We had heard the news… The police?"

"I saw it with my own eyes," I confirm. "Yevon can deny it all they want. I know what I saw. No one can dare tell me otherwise and think they'll get away with it."

Lulu stands, turning her back to me. She folds her arms, covering her mouth with one hand. I think it's safe to say I caught her off-guard. I've had enough time to grieve, to be angry over this. Apparently, she hasn't, and she didn't even know him. That means she does have a heart in there, somewhere.

"Listen," I tell her, stepping closer. "I know you and Chappu have some kind of history together. The only reason he and I first clicked is because we reminded the other of other people. I reminded him of you, and he reminded me of Baralai." Lulu's emotions harden again with the change of subject. She turns to face me, scowling. I'm hardly bothered by it. "You act like there's something wrong with what I said."

"You remind him of me?" she repeats, like she's having a difficult time understanding. Lulu glances at the quintet onstage. Her eyes are back to mine seconds later. Something in hers has made them darken: curiosity, contempt? "Did he say why?"

I step a little closer to her. "No, he didn't," I say. Lulu is on the verge of looking disappointed, until I add: "Wakka told me that if I want to know something about you, I have to find out from you directly. You know yourself well enough to have an idea of what Chappu meant."

Lulu straightens her back, turning to face the stage. She rests her hands over the railing, frowning; deep in thought. I think of a way to surprise her, to snap her out of that.

"Black Waltz," I say without warning. Lulu bolts around to face me, glaring to cover up something more. I fight back a smirk. "Did I scare you?"

She looks like she wants to yell at me to get out. A few moments pass, just as that thought of hers does. Lulu turns back around to the stage, staring at it wistfully. "How do you know about that?" she asks, soft.

"It's written on the back of a picture of you that Chappu carries with him everywhere," I tell her. Lulu's eyes widen in mild horror. Her eyes dart around like crazy, like she's dreaming with her eyes open. When I get a better look, I see she's tracking the movements of one of the violinist's arms. She could still be having that waking-dream regardless. "You're dancing in the picture. It's for a recital, back from your twentieth birthday. He wrote a few more things there." I can't tell if she wants to know or not. Why does she look this terrified and angry at the same time? "I'm guessing something happened that night. You changed."

Lulu waits until the song is over before sitting back down, deflated. Not long passes before her usual stoicism returns. "Will you be coming with us, back to Besaid?" she asks, all-business.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I explain. I decide against asking her about the sudden turn-around.

"Good," she says, sounding oddly satisfied. "I want you with us. The island and the nearby town ought to be quite welcome to you, after all you've endured." Lulu regards me with that neutral expression of hers. "Though, I do have one question before we return to the locker room." I raise an eyebrow, as my way of asking her to ask. "Do you know what it means to be a Black Waltz?"

I didn't expect her to bring this up again, not this soon. "No, not really," I say. Lulu's face doesn't change at all. "All I know is that it's also a type of dance for black mages. Is there something more I should know…?"

"You should _know _that it is a way of life," supplies Lulu. "Anyone who walks that path can never turn back. And yet, the path will not accept those who are not worthy. Those who are too weak to embody all that is needed in order to achieve Nirvana…" She pauses for a moment. I get the feeling she wants to look at me. She stops herself from doing it. Lulu stands instead. "This is my way of telling you that I don't believe in Yevon, either."

"Wait a minute! I never _said_—"

"—you didn't have to say it," Lulu goes on, beckoning with her tone for me to follow her outside. Her tone: it's light, inviting, because she knows she is clever, wise, and she's won this conversation with her observations. She pays attention to me. "You should be careful to not spread that around—about you, about me. We've already said too much to one another today."

Once we're back outside, around other people, Lulu goes back to scowling. She doesn't say a word to me when I ask her to explain herself. It feels like I'm the only one who remembers the talk we just had. Her aura and attitude scream _bitch _all over again. I don't think it's because she's overly-concerned about appearances. I don't know her, I don't know _what _it is, but I know it can't be that.

When we get back to the locker rooms, the Aurochs are celebrating their advancement to the finals. Lulu leans on the wall next to me, looking at Chappu with a light, grateful expression.


	4. Illnesses

_As the moon sails overhead in the starry sky-sea, I sit beneath the rain on the ferry and drown in my…misery._ Does that rhyme? It sounds too sappy. Isn't there _anything _else I can do besides think of lame words that rhyme? I'm trying to keep to myself. I'm trying to not stare at Lulu standing alone at the bow of the ferry to Kilika. I'm sweating because it's still warm through this rain, because she's there. She has her back to me, carrying a black parasol. I _could _stare at her and get away with it. I'm sitting on top of the Captain's quarters; I'd hear anyone taking the stairs up here, and look somewhere else in time. Still, I can't shake this feeling that she would feel my eyes on the back of her head if I tried. Maybe not _just _the back of her head…the corset of her dress does her hips more favors than I can count. I keep imagining me going up to her, holding her waist from behind, firm enough to let her know what I want:

Her closeness, her scent, her touch, her femininity—_all of it_. I need to shape her. Now I can't stop wondering if she's a virgin or not.

It's been a few days since that conversation she and I had in the Sphere Theater. We haven't spoken since then. With these thoughts I've been having of her, it's better for us not to talk yet. I take care to avoid the general area where she sleeps below deck. I've given up on sleeping. Whenever I do try, I'm restless, thinking too much about what I should do. Everyone else has left Lulu alone for the most part. Chappu tried to apologize to her the other day; she didn't want to hear it. That's also what's discouraging me from going over to her. I don't want to bother her.

At the same time, I'll never get anywhere with her if I don't _do _something. She looks perfectly content with standing there and letting the world react to her, approach her. She's patient enough for that. I'm not.

As soon as I stand up, I'm hit with a wave of weariness that makes me want to sit back down. I stumble back against the nearest railing. When I find my balance again, I close my eyes and breathe, shuddering. I've lived through far worse than this on the Thunder Plains. I'm fine. I'll be all right. I just…need to go to her.

I move at the right time, because as soon as I make my way down the stairs, I see Chappu out of the corner of my eye. When he sees me, his sandals shuffle against the wet wood as he stops abruptly. I can't tell if he meant to find me or Lulu. He doesn't call after me as I head over to her. I have to grip nearby surfaces to get there, but I manage just fine.

Lulu hears my heels, turning around when I'm paces away. "Paine?" she asks, sounding and looking concerned for me. I use one hand to lean on the railing closest to her. I have to keep cool; I don't lean on it _too _much. "You don't look well at all… Are you all right?" She doesn't wait for my answer. When she moves the back of her hand to my forehead, I have to hold back a spasm; skin-touch-orgasm, shivering down to my knees at her touch. I fight with all of my strength to keep standing, to not fall to my knees before her. Not this soon. "Oh, Paine, you have a fever. You shouldn't be out here…" Then she remembers: "When is the last time you slept? I never see you below deck."

The time she spends staring at me is when I'm supposed to answer her. I don't say a word. Lulu takes that as a bad sign, judging from the frown on her face. She gestures with her gaze alone for me to follow her below deck. I'm too slow to do it because I can't believe this. I came here to talk to her, and now…

"Come with me," she says, hooking her arms with one of mine. I have to bend down to stay underneath the parasol with her. We walk around the Captain's quarters to the stairs. I'm hardly aware of that; my sight's blacking out and clearing again by the second. Even after standing out in the rain for hours, she's so warm…

We make it downstairs to the sleeping quarters. Lulu opens the door for us, lingering in the doorway to close her parasol and set it against the wall. She keeps one of her arms linked with mine as she does that. When she has me sit down in the dark room on a bed far away from the door, I can't understand how I ever thought she was a bitch. She's fussing over me, quietly: she brings a towel over, wrapping it around my head and shoulders; easing me down with her hands for me to rest. I fight against that for a few seconds, leaning forward to take off my boots. She lets me do that. I want to linger here, with how close she is to me. The second both of them are off, she's guiding me back down to the bed again.

I can't keep my thoughts clear when she sits down with me. Lulu is _here_.

"Sleeping in leather isn't a good idea," she says; her soft tone is the only thing that reaches me in this room. She's facing me as much as possible. "Did you not bring a change of clothes?"

"I left Bevelle with the clothes on my back, and… And the convictions in my heart."

Lulu stops breathing for a moment. I can't see her face in this darkness. "And which convictions might those be?" she asks.

I'll probably sound incredibly naïve to her…but I can never forget: "To change the world."

Again, Lulu stops breathing. When she does exhale again, her breath is long and slow. Long, and slow… "Well," she says, having me sit up a bit so she can take the towel away, "You won't be changing much of anything if you're ill. I want you to rest." She stands and goes to the sink on the other side of the room. It sounds like she's wetting a smaller towel and wringing it out. I hear the sound of china clinking when she makes her way back over to me. Lulu sets the cup down nearby. She uses the cold towel to smooth away the sweat over my face. I can't stop from shivering at her touch: kind, considerate. "Hmm, Paine, why did you insist on staying out in that rain? Your body isn't used to this tropical weather yet."

"I was fine when I went through the Thunder Plains," I tell her. Lulu makes a humming sound, to tell me she's not convinced. "…I didn't think you cared this much about me."

Lulu moves to pick up the cup. I feel sudden warmth coming from her hands. Must be her black magic. "And now you know that I do." I smell strong herbs once the contents are warm enough. "Do you want me to be ashamed of it? Or for me to act as though I don't care for you at all?"

"I just…want to know why you do."

She has me drink the tea a little bit at a time. It tastes like leafy cinnamon…and it's making me way too sleepy. "Because of all you've made me consider, only by being around me," she explains. I know she can't possibly think the same things as I do. I'm afraid to ask what she means; I don't want to know for certain that she doesn't think of me that way. "You don't have to speak in order for me to sympathize with you. I see now why Chappu sensed similarities between us. You would do well to tell him you're not interested."

That wakes me up in a second. "Interested?" I ask.

Lulu has me drink more. "You're seventeen years old, are you not?" she asks, gentle. I nod; she feels it against the cup in her hands. "Therefore, you are at that age where you must surely know what I mean." I stay quiet. I want her to say it. "The next time you see him, make sure to tell him you don't want to have sex with him. It is best to handle these things promptly, before they can get out of hand."

Even though I practically dared her to do it, I can't believe she said that. She seems like such a prude. "How exactly do you _know_ I don't want him?"

"You seem too preoccupied by other things to notice the way he looks at you. It's none of my business, so I won't ask unless you decide to tell me." I finish the last of the tea. If Lulu can notice all of that, I need to chill with the way I look at _her_. Unless— "Now, get some sleep. When we arrive to Kilika, I'll be sure to look around the markets for clothes you can sleep in. The tea will keep you out for a while…"

If she says anything else, I don't hear her. I fall asleep right away. As I do, I wonder if that entire conversation was her way of making sure I don't want someone else. She is a really good mind fuck.

.

Sunrise, the sky is bleeding. Kilika Port is empty. Everyone is at home, or away, or dead. I don't know. I sit on the dock, waiting for the next ferry to Besaid. There are no clouds in the sky. I stare at the reds before me, thinking of the ones I saw before I left: the walls of Bevelle, Baralai's life wall shattered by betrayal, and the invisible blood I spilled from Yuna when I decided we could never be. For years before that night, all I wanted was her. All I could think of was her, if she was all right whenever I wasn't with her; if Baralai knew, and encouraged her when I wasn't around to ask me how I felt.

Now I don't think of her at all. I feel like I've killed her. Just because I want someone else. I want—want—I can't _need_—but Lulu is…she doesn't need permission for anything. She just _is _and I want to know her. Lulu keeps easing her way inside of me, making me forget the things I thought I would struggle to let go of. I'm betraying my only two friendships. I'm not mourning enough for them. And if one day, I found another, would it be this easy for me to forget about Lulu?

What is the fucking point of being loyal to _anything_ if I can be this fickle?

I hear Lulu's purposeful footsteps, the drag of her dress; the chimes of her belt buckles and jewelry, coming toward me. I refuse to look at her. She grabs my thighs, pushes me back and makes me lie down on the dock.

"I'm only changing your clothes," she says, unfolding my top. I scowl at her; I want to scream at her to stop, but I _can't_. It feels like I'll soon choke on the words I can't say. She leaves my strapless bra alone. Her sharp nails are soft to scratch my skin, down, to undo my belts. "…Maybe I should have waited. Are you uncomfortable?"

I wrap my arms about her neck, holding on. Her braids are draped over my arms. I lightly rake my nails down the bare part of her back when she pulls my pants off. She bites back her reaction. This freedom burns me. I bend my legs, drawing them close to my chest. Lulu stops that, pressing her hand down over my thighs. Her warm, full weight is over me. I want her between my legs. I want to be between her legs. I want her on her back, holding me around my back; I pull her toward me, keeping her face against my neck, sighing as she breathes there.

"Paine," she says, surprised and sensual all at once, "Tell me, honestly…are you attracted to me? Do you fantasize about having me?" Lulu brushes her lips against my ear, licking, once. I shudder, falling harder in her hold. I want to answer her with my body. She wants words. I want to answer her with my touch, my attention, to prove to her that I've moved on from the past. "If I let you…" She holds my hand, slipping it between her belts, between her warm thighs. I'm on the verge of hyperventilating; can't breathe; sweating too much; need to let this energy out— "…would you touch me the way I need? Tease me first…" I find control, holding her thigh, marveling at the thickness of her flesh; I thumb at the lace of her thong, on fire from the smile she brands against my jaw. She kisses me there, easing her needs through her lips. I hold her, completely, to feel what to do through the fullness of her body. "I want you to take me, make me bleed for you. Don't you want that, too? To shape me, make me yours…"

The blood from their hearts—Yuna, Baralai, my parents—spills from my mouth. My teeth loosen in my gums and fall out in that bloodfall. My tongue dries up, slips down my throat, threatening to choke me—

I bolt up in an unfamiliar bed, heaving in the dark, sweating up a storm. All I can smell is my sweat in the room, on the sheets, on my scalp, dripping down eyelids, my face, my whole body, and my hormones that soaked me between my legs. My legs feel freer. I'm wearing a pair of black shorts, and a red sleeveless top. I don't remember these clothes. I don't remember changing into them. _Did she—?_

"You okay?"

Chappu stands up from the other side of the area. There's another bed there. _Where is she?_ I ignore his question, wondering why he's looking at me like that. Why did he glance at my chest just now? I slap my hand to my mouth, checking frantically, anxiously if there's blood there. I move the tip of my tongue around in my mouth to make sure my teeth are all there. Nothing's missing.

Except Lulu. She's not here. I lie back down in the pool of my sweat, turning away from him.

"Guess you're all right," says Chappu, taking a few steps closer to me. I look around to the furnace nearby, the vanity neatly covered in makeup and jewelry, and the long dresses hanging from the fabric-like walls. I see my clothes folded up on the table. "'Case you're wonderin', we're back in Besaid. You were so out of it, I had to carry you here from the ferry. Everyone's real worried 'bout you, you know?"

I don't answer him. I'm afraid my teeth really will fall out if I say anything.

"You feel any better?" he tries. I shake my head. "Thought so… Lu asked me to keep an eye on you while she went into town, ya? It's night time, she should'a been back by now." I stop my hips from jerking at the mention of her name. I'm scared of that—that thing—happening to my mouth again, and now I think I won't be able to control myself around her. "You hungry?"

I want to _devour _her clit, right the fuck now.

"I am," I say at last, sounding too calm. Chappu is about to go outside until I add: "Not for food."

He rubs the back of his head. "You're thirsty?" he asks, oblivious. Cute… That reminds me.

"Lulu told me to tell you that I don't want to have sex with you."

Chappu swallows whatever else he was about to say, choking, coughing. It's so bad, he has to sit back down on the other bed, bending over to cough against his knees. "What?!" he asks, having the decency to sound incredulous. He coughs again. "Why'd she tell you to do _that_? Does she really think…?"

I remember her rule. "You have to ask her yourself," is all I say.

"Geez!" he says, before coughing one last time. "I can't even be nice to you without her thinking that?!"

I like where this conversation is going. "You make it sound like she's perverted," I point out.

"Yeah, well," he grumbles, standing up, "Ask that dance instructor of hers. _He'd _know." Wait… "I'm not sayin' they sleep around or whatever. It's just—the things he'd say to her—you'd think they were…fucking!" I turn around, matching the outrage in his tone with the look on his face. "To hell with her rule, okay? I gotta say this." Chappu shoves his hands in his pockets, walking all the way over to my bed. "Look, I know you seen that picture of hers I carried around with me. That was from three years ago. That was the same night her old instructor retired, and they all met the one who's still there today. Far as I know, she don't dance no more, but every now and then, she'll go back up to Balfonheim to talk to the guy. Every time she comes back, she's upset! I bet you anything that's where she went."

"Why are you so against Lulu doing her own thing?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

Chappu looks at me like I'm clueless, like he can't stand it. "She lost herself the last time I left her alone," he says, guarded; folding his arms. "Lu can act like she don't need no one to look after her. That's a lie, ya? Her last recital from three years ago—she practiced and practiced and practiced for it, barely slept or ate, and almost drove herself mad, you know? I'm sure she thought of it again when you got sick."

"I doubt it's about leaving her alone. If that was the case, you would have never joined the Crusaders."

He shakes his head. "That was stupid of me," he admits. "I got the wrong idea 'bout her, ya? She moved in with me, acted like she needed me around. So what'd I do? I asked her to marry me…"

"…and she said no," I finish for him. Chappu doesn't have to say as much: "And you were embarrassed, and thought you could impress her by going off to defeat Sin." Saying the words makes them make sense to me. I have to _do _things for her to see how I feel, for her to feel the same way… It clicks: Lulu wants someone forward, confident; someone who will prove themselves to her with actions. "…that was until I made you realize you were nothing but bait for the masses."

Chappu bows to me. "I'm grateful for that, Paine," he says. "I saw so much of Lulu in you that day on the Moonflow…I couldn't ignore it. I dunno what I was thinkin' when I asked her…we never even—" He sighs. I get the picture. It's strangely satisfying to know that she never slept with him. "My brother teased me all the time 'bout her. Never did anythin' with her. No one else has, far as I know. She might as well be married to that Black Waltz thing of hers, ya? There's just no way to reach her."

"Reach whom?" asks Lulu, brow raised as she enters the hut. My heart stops. She glares at Chappu. He looks away. Her demeanor softens when she notices me awake. That lasts for a few seconds before she turns back to him. "Do you mind? You said you would stay with your brother. Now please, go to him."

Chappu raises his hands in defeat. "All right, Lu, I get it, ya? I'll move out—"

"No. I will. On my own time. Leave us." Lulu steps aside for him to leave. He does. I get the feeling Chappu wants to turn back and look at me one last time. She walks over to me. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep since the night before we reached Kilika."

I smooth my hand over the sheets. "I've been sweating a lot," I mutter. Lulu moves to sit down on the bed with me. She knows that's not all I have to say. "…and now I know why I avoided sleeping when I could help it." Lulu tilts her head to one side, asking me that way to elaborate. "I…" Can't lie to her— "…had this dream…about you."

Lulu moves the back of her hand to my forehead. I have another spasm, that irresistible spasm from her touch, touching me, close to me, on me. Her breathing deepens, and so does her voice when she asks: "What kind of dream?"

I look over to my clothes folded on the table. My sword is there underneath the table, by my boots. "Did you take those off of me and put these on?" I ask. I don't want to sound accusing. I don't _think _I do.

Lulu uses her magic to chill her hand with water this time. "I certainly couldn't ask Wakka or Chappu to do it," she answers, glossing her touch down my neck. I hold my breath. I'll combust soon if she keeps talking to me like this, touching me like this. "Why? Is that what you dreamed about—me changing your clothes?" I nod my head. "I suppose that is normal. I apologize for not asking first. I was afraid you'd overheat in your leather."

I'm listening to her, thinking of a hundred ways to show her how sexy she is even when she's apologizing. I should stop. I get this feeling that she knows what I'm thinking from looking in my eyes alone. I want her to know; I want her; I want to know her; she should know what I really dreamed about, but she's not asking.

This is all so superficial. I need a better way to show Lulu how I feel. I need to know her better, I need her to know me better. I don't want her to think I'm only a kid with a crush on her. She's so grown-up. I have to go into her world. This isn't enough.

I need to calm down, bottle this all up, collect more—way more—and give it to her at a better time.

I soften my voice as much as possible. "Thank you," I tell her. Lulu doesn't smile at me, but she doesn't frown, either. Then I remember what Chappu said, about Lulu always being upset when she comes back from Balfonheim, the nearby town. "Is something the matter?"

Lulu chooses now to smile, a little. "It's funny," she starts, "I don't quite remember the last time someone asked me that. Perhaps it was three years ago, when I had to prepare for my last recital of the season. In fact, too many people asked me that question, back then… You being ill reminded me of that time. I believe I had a fever when I was last onstage."

"Why would you do that to yourself?" I ask, unable to imagine it. "You're so responsible. I can't picture you putting yourself under that kind of stress."

She inches her nails and fingertips through my hair, massaging my scalp. I'm calm enough not to shiver this time. I keep my wants in-check, giving her my full attention. Lulu knows she has me, and that I'm listening. Despite that, she can't bring herself to answer my question.

It must be serious. Even though I really want to know what happened, I respect her wishes more.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asks instead. Lulu is still…massaging… I manage to shake my head. "The village elders asked me to pass their blessing to you, for you to recover soon. They unfortunately did this in the name of Yevon. I understand if you wish to disregard them." She pauses, looking me over. Lulu glances at my chest in a way that doesn't make me _think_ anything. I have cleavage showing—no wonder Chappu looked. "Because of their blessing, a few of the villagers hold some animosity toward them. Not everyone is quite over what happened in Bevelle…" Lulu smoothes her hand over my shoulder before standing up. "There is an old superstition that any food prepared with the bonfire outside will be tainted in these types of situations. While I'm not one to believe in baseless folktales, I did bring something to prepare for us. You should be hungry by the time it's done."

I watch her go over to the furnace, lighting the fire inside with her magic alone. She kneels down, setting the food out; cleaning it, cooking it, slowly, thoroughly. My mouth waters from the savory smell. About half an hour passes; I've watched her in silence the whole time. I'd normally be restless by now. I couldn't stand staying still before. I always had to be _doing _something. Now…I don't mind. I could watch her for hours whether she knew I was there or not. She is so beautiful; I could never waste time by only watching her. I don't care how many secrets she has, or how her actions don't always line up with her words. Those things are what make her human; real to me.

Lulu loses her concentration for a moment. She turns to look at me.

"Is there something on your mind?" she asks.

I blurt out the first random thing that comes to mind: "Do I remind you of yourself?" Lulu lowers her head. "You know…how you said you were sick that time, and now I am. But—other than that—like, the way we think and act…don't you think it's similar?"

"I do," she responds. She puts the fire out and walks over to me, letting the food cool off. "Your motivations in life remind me of the ones I once had. I wanted to change the world, too. I thought I could do that through my passions, my love of art." Lulu stops to kneel at my bedside. She looks so serious, it hurts. "But I changed nothing. There was no Nirvana when I completed the recital. There was no immediate cure to my fever by achieving the perfection I once sought for. I did my best because that was all anyone ever expected of me. I only lost my peace of mind further when the new instructor told me where I went wrong."

"What did he say?" I ask, needing to know.

Lulu hesitates for a few seconds. She's wondering if she can trust me or not. "He noticed that I performed each of my moves with practical perfection," she goes on. "Perfect timing, perfect execution. No mistakes. And that, he claimed, was my mistake. He all but kicked me out of the Company in telling me this. I decided to leave before he could damage my pride any more than he already had. I often go back to the theater to speak to him, to ask for clarification. Three years have passed and I've yet to understand what he meant. I would display nothing but incompetence if I went back to dancing."

I can't begin to imagine how she's feeling right now—how she felt back then, even more so. Lulu stands and tries to go back to the food. I hold her wrist over the long sleeve of her dress. She takes a few steps away anyway. I pull her back toward me, just forceful enough to let her know I'm serious, that I care.

"Lulu…maybe it's something you can only understand if you try again," I tell her. I know she's listening. "He said you didn't make any mistakes. You're afraid of looking incompetent if you go back to it…which would be a mistake in your eyes. That might be the only way to know."

"A purposeful mistake is hardly a _mistake_," she counters.

"It's the only way to _let go_ and see the other side of life," I explain. I lower my hold to her hand inside of her sleeve…for a few seconds. I let go soon after. Lulu still won't look at me. She doesn't have to. "You should go back to it. I can tell it's something you still love, even after all this time, after all that's happened." Before she can ask, I add: "I can hear it in your voice, Lulu. I can see it in the grace you have, how you carry yourself. It's never left you. I think you owe it to yourself to find out."

Lulu stares at the ground for a long moment. "Strange…we have only known one another for a week, and here you are, saying the words I've longed to hear someone say to me for three whole years." She takes a deep breath. Her words fill me with the type of hope I thought I wouldn't feel again. I get the feeling she regrets what she just said. To distract herself, maybe, she goes and prepares the food for us to eat. "The villagers, the Aurochs, Wakka, and Chappu—I have known them since I was a child. None of them could bring themselves to say any of this to me, though I'm sure they know what it is I want. I feel foolish for needing encouragement…"

"You don't have to decide right now. Just think about it. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. It's the least I can do for you…for what you've done for me. If you need more encouragement, I'll find a way to give it to you. You won't have to ask. Promise."


	5. Encouragement

Another week passes before I recover fully. I haven't slept since that time I woke up from my nightmare about the blood spilling from my mouth. Lulu's been sleeping in Chappu's bed, so I'm not sure if she's noticed. We go for a walk tonight, just the two of us, for me to show her that I'm all right. We're on our way to Balfonheim in the center of Besaid Island. We haven't said a word since we decided to leave the village together. I'm thinking too much, wondering if it's normal for both of us to be this quiet. She still hasn't decided on whether or not she'll go back to dancing. As if to distract herself from the possibility, she's cooked for me every day, introduced me to the villagers, found out that neither of us has been in a relationship because we're both too closed off, and had like-minded discussions as to why Yevon is corrupt, though we haven't touched the _gay_ subject. _Yet_. We have a lot in common…

I can't shake this feeling that there's far more to her than what I've seen over the past two weeks.

Lulu glances at me often. I assume it's her way of checking to make sure I'm okay. I've been running on adrenaline to keep myself awake. Thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and thinking of her, of religion, of what I should do now, if I should find a job in town. When we make it to the cobblestone streets of the seaside town, Lulu surprises me by hooking our arms together. I look down at them, and then do a double-take to the huge group of burly guys who pass us, on their way to the nearest bar.

"Balfonheim isn't safe at night," says Lulu, pointing out the obvious now. "The residents tend to mind their own business. You can never be sure once the alcohol gets to them. It's best to be cautious."

I don't want to have to put my sword to use. I barely know _how _to use it. I move my forearm across my torso, just to fool myself into thinking she's doing this for intimacy's sake. She leads us down the streets between the stone buildings—hotels, bars, restaurants and shops—set on taking me somewhere specific. When I hear a nearby sound of glass crashing to the pavement, I decide to never let her go here alone. She's a powerful black mage, I know, but…I guess I'm overprotective, considering what I've lost.

Lulu tenses up when she has us pass through Balfonheim's red light district. I'm fascinated by the clubs, the people, and the activity going on. It reminds me of The Saint—the club I went to in Bevelle—just outside, allowed, and free. There are a few women walking up and down the streets who make me think they're prostitutes: high stiletto heels, too much skin showing; the way they walk, they're trying to act nonchalant, like they don't have an agenda. It looks like they have quite the agenda to me. I don't stare, since I feel Lulu's eyes on me, and I don't want her to get the wrong idea.

"I'm betting no one from the temple knows about this place," I wonder out loud, looking around.

She moves to speak in my ear. "Quite the contrary—a few priests frequent the so-called restaurant nearby." Lulu guides me to what looks like a restaurant: inside, there are rows of bar tables and a bunch of booths. There are a bunch of older men wearing suits, all of them sitting next to girls who look about my age. "I hear that they only go there to _talk_. I wouldn't be surprised if more happened. I'm sure a number of women's husbands are in there, contemplating having an affair with their hostesses…"

"Would you ever go to a place like that?" I ask for the hell of it. Lulu keeps her mouth next to my ear, pausing, like she wants to answer me. I turn my head toward her. This angle is intimate. It warms me. "Say you were lonely, and you wanted…a guy to talk to. Is there a women's version of that restaurant?"

Lulu puts her hand on my shoulder farthest from her, before pointing to a building in that direction. "There, yes," she says, having us walk over there. A bunch of young-looking guys in loose suits are outside, waving over attractive women, shouting at them that they'll have a good time inside. Most of the women look perturbed, hurrying up to get away from them. "It's called Rising Sun. I believe it's the most popular club in town." On either side of the door, I see glass walls with a bunch of lights surrounding the guys' pictures there. "If you notice, the host boys never approach women who look as though they don't have much gil. I've heard stories of the exorbitant amounts women will spend in there, all for a man who doesn't truly want them. It's nothing but an act."

We watch a few of the host boys stop a pair of friends, convincing them to go inside. "You mean you've never gone in there?" Lulu makes a humming sound in my ear, telling me no. "So your version of a good time was just dancing for the Company? That's all you ever did to unwind?"

"Unwind?" asks Lulu, like the word is foreign. Those same boys notice us. Behind them, I see a sign on the club's door: _Now Hiring. _"I see no need to unwind, or to have a good time, as you put it."

I don't know why that makes me smile.

Two of the host boys make their way over to us. If I was straight, I'd find them attractive. Too bad I'm not, and I don't. "Hey-hey, I've never seen you around here!" says the first to me. Well, I can't say I haven't heard _that_ one before… "Go inside, go inside! There's drinks, food, partying _all night _with hot guys—they'll do _anything _for you! Just say the word!"

Lulu has tensed up again. She wants to leave. I smirk at the guy. I want to see what this is about.

"I know you've got plenty of gil, right?" asks the second. I'm broke, actually. "Pay as much as you want and you'll have a better time! The more you spend the more fun you'll have!"

This is sounding like an amusement park for adults. I keep smirking, bringing Lulu inside with me. The guys encourage us a little more on our way in, promising we'll have a great time. I'm sure we will. I want to see how Lulu acts around guys. So far, she's been against being anywhere near them. This is one way I can tell if she's straight, gay, or if she just doesn't want to be bothered tonight. I know I could _ask_, but this is much better. She won't be able to deny anything with her actions. It's not enough to go off of how she is around Chappu and Wakka. There's too much animosity there on her part to tell.

The hard smell of alcohol reaches me the second we're inside. Rising Sun's interior is long, narrow, like an endless, open hallway of shallow entertainment. Guys cheering, having drinking contests, throwing gil in the air, or just them sitting at booths with their arms around girls and talking to them—you wouldn't think this is anything out of the ordinary for a regular club. Lulu and I both stop walking at the same time when we catch the first sign that this place isn't _ordinary_:

At the very end of the building that we can see, she and I have a view of a guy with his back to us. He's fully clothed, and otherwise normal except for the girl he's carrying over his front. Her skirt rides up his suit jacket. He thrusts his hips into hers. She has her arms wrapped around his neck, her head thrown back, sounding drunk as she laughs and whines. There are other people sitting near them, watching.

Lulu still has her arm linked with mine. Heat rushes to my face. I'm throbbing. I feel similar heat radiating from her, her bare shoulder against mine. This is the perfect opportunity to do something, say something. I observe instead: she's not looking at the guy. She's looking at the girl. Lulu's eyes move up and down, watching her, and I _know_ she is, because I'm reminded of the Sphere Theater, when she tracked the violinist's arm as he played. I should—

"Well, well, what have we here?" says an unfamiliar, female voice. She sounds way too flirtatious for a stranger. "New customers?" she asks, stepping in front of me. Her long, body-hugging black V-neck dress distracts me from the view behind her. She runs her manicured hand through her short, blonde hair, her blue eyes twinkling with enjoyment as she looks me up and down. "Hmm…I do hope you tell me you're _not _a customer, love. Your clothes, your body, your energy…" She stands closer to me, giving me a coquettish smile. I keep from smirking when I notice Lulu's scowl out of the corner of my eye. "Let's just say it's giving me a few ideas."

"And what ideas are those?" I ask, deciding to go along with this.

She gestures to her name card over her generous chest. Lulu's is better. Not that I've…stared enough at Lulu's chest enough to know. "Ideas that happen to go with my role here," she says. _Manager_. "Leblanc." She offers me her hand. I take it, expecting us to shake hands. We don't. She holds my gloved hand for a minute, looking down at it. "And who—" Leblanc bats her eyelashes at me; "Might you be?"

"Paine," I tell her. Leblanc brightens. "I assume these ideas of yours have to do with the sign on the front door."

"They do," she says, running her fingertips down my face. Lulu is _pissed_. "Oh!" Leblanc notices that ire. "You, I know you! You're that dancer with the Black Waltz Company, aren't you? Lulu?" Lulu is too angry to speak, so she nods instead. Leblanc laughs in delight. "It's quite the honor to meet you. Even more so if you manage to convince your…_friend_…to work for me!"

Lulu is moved to say something this time. "I beg your pardon?" she asks. I can't tell what she's offended by. "Why in Spira would she want such a thing? This establishment is hardly one I can call professional."

Leblanc flicks her wrist in amusement. "Oh, but don't you see? _That _is the professional part about it!" She laughs again when she can tell Lulu isn't buying it. "And Paine, here, well…" She licks her lips at me, circling behind me. "Your body screams female, and yet your attitude can easily appeal to both sexes. I like that." When I feel her hands over my shoulders, I imagine it's Lulu instead. My eyes edge with the confidence I only feel around Lulu these days. Leblanc moves back in front of me, letting her hands slide down my back. "Has anyone ever told you you'd make the _perfect _cross-dresser? Smile to be a woman, scowl to be a man. You're a true chameleon!"

"I've had someone tell me before, yeah," I admit. Lulu looks surprised to learn this. I never did tell her about that Gippal guy in the café.

"So, then, it shouldn't shock you to hear that I want you…" Leblanc pauses. I smile, honestly amused by her personality, even if Lulu isn't. I know I would normally hate to be around someone like Leblanc. It _might _have something to do with my hopes that she's making Lulu jealous. "…to work for me." Leblanc turns around to see the guy finally finishing inside of that girl. "Oh. Well, none of that!" She waves her hand dismissively, turning back to me. "Then again, it does depend… I can't imagine too many girls being forward enough to ask that of you. For now, think of the position as therapy work! Women come in for a few drinks, they request to see you, they talk to you…" Leblanc looks like she has too many ideas in mind. "…and then they pay you stupid amounts of gil, and they leave. Simple, right?"

"It does sound simple enough," I agree. I'm concerned Lulu might set Leblanc on fire if this conversation continues. "I'll have to think about it first. If it's something I'm interested in, I'll come back and find you."

.

When we leave Rising Sun, Lulu is still way too tense. She hasn't let go of my arm, no, but there's this deep-seated anger about her that's worrying me. I can tell she's thinking about something. I give her the time to do that, noticing where she's taken us: a wide, stone building that has to be the town's theater. We enter through the tall double-doors just as a large group of dancers make their way out. Most of them are female—all of them look at Lulu with pure loathing. Lulu tilts her head up at that arrogant angle of hers, walking on by with me. I guess that means she doesn't exactly have any friends here.

I'm sure she doesn't care about friends or other people for that matter. Seeing that still makes me sad.

"Don't worry about them," she says to me, her voice echoing down the dark hall. "This environment fosters too much competition between all of us. Any so-called friendships made here are between pupils of equal skill. That is because they don't see one another as a threat. Things change the second one is chosen for a key role or even as an alternate for one. I decided early on to never bother with such fragile social circles. I'm glad I didn't."

I can't help the words from coming out. "It doesn't help that you're the best dancer here," I tell her. "No one else is on your level. That kills your chances of having friends here, doesn't it?"

Lulu smiles at me. There is a conundrum of darkness in her eyes; I can't tell what it is. "You would do well to speak to me this way more often," she suggests. My heart knots up at her tone. "You did say you would continue to encourage me to return here. That is certainly one way to do it."

I just smile back, too scared I'll say something stupid and ruin the moment. Lulu has us turn a corner into a brightly-lit room with mirrors for walls, and metal railing at waist-length by those mirrors. There is another, smaller group of dancers here, sitting down in a line near the piano, hunched over, looking exhausted. There's a frigid-looking girl in tights standing in the center, head lowered as a tall, darker-skinned, muscular man, also in tights, talks to her. She looks intimidated by him. I wonder why.

Lulu lets go of my arm and walks right up to the guy. His long dreadlocks in a tail down his back whip around with him as he turns. He raises his circular spectacles to look at her properly. "Lulu!" he says, subdued even in his surprise. That girl rolls her eyes behind his back. "What brings you here at this hour? It's nearly midnight."

"Nooj," says Lulu, bowing a little. "I came to speak with you in private. If you're preoccupied, I can wait."

Nooj smiles, rugged. It's hard to believe this tough-looking guy's life-long passion is dancing. "It will have to wait, but I have something to keep you busy in the mean time," he offers. All he has to do is wave the girl behind him away, and she goes to sit down. Lulu takes her place, waiting. He notices me. Something in his eyes tells me he already knows the answer to his next question: "And who might you be?"

I step forward, heels clicking against the wooden floor. "Paine," I tell him. Nooj walks over to me, slowly; intrigued. He stops right in front of me. I look up at him towering over me, scowling at the smugness on his face. Does he _want _something from me? "Nice to meet you."

"Ah…yes, you're Lulu's friend," he comments, before lowering his voice. "I've heard a lot about you." Nooj turns to Lulu, nodding, and then to the one sitting at the piano. "From the top!"

I stare behind him when a slow, somber song starts playing; when a male dancer stands still in the middle of the room. Lulu touches him, holds his muscular arms, bending her body back, dipping to this music. Her form reminds me of ballet, but it's not… It's not. Black Waltz: off-rhythm, graceful, expressive, sensual, even in that heavy dress of hers and all of her jewelry. I have no technical eye for dancing, but I know how I feel right now: the fluid way she moves her limbs from slow to quick, not controlled, makes me think she's seducing me. She's always seducing me whether she tries or not. That guy stands still, staring straight ahead, like he has no idea what it _means _for Lulu to touch him like that. He's nothing but her prop. _Nothing_—and yet my neck and face are on fire, as red as my eyes.

Lulu bores her eyes into mine. Not once does she look away from me. I'm throbbing again. I _want _her.

"I see…" says Nooj, with interest, standing close as he watches her. "_This _is what she wanted to tell me." I feel like I'm missing something. He claps his hands twice, loudly, and addresses everyone on the other side. Lulu stops dancing, and lets go of that _prop_; the song stops with her. "As always, she embodies the nature of Number Three," he explains, walking in their general direction. "The third and final Black Waltz is in no hurry to achieve her goals. She is confident, calculating, and cunning. She will wait as long as possible for her prey to come to her." When Nooj pauses to frown at the dancers sitting down, I have to wonder: does Lulu think I'm her prey right now? I don't make a good victim. If she does think that, we're going to have a problem… "If the rest of you want this part, you'll need to work harder. That is all."

The rest of the dancers leave the room, silent, looking like they feel sorry for themselves. The pianist hurries out, like he'd rather be anywhere but here at this time of night. Lulu and Nooj exchange a few quiet words before they look over at me. As soon as they do, I turn around to leave the room. Whatever they're talking about, it looks serious.

I wait in the hallway, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. I keep thinking about what Chappu said about Nooj—how Nooj speaks to Lulu like the two are fucking. Maybe I should have stayed to listen for myself. Maybe the two of them really _are _having an affair. Is Lulu only hanging around me so I can flatter her? It's obvious how much she cares about this dancing thing. No…no, she's better than that. I haven't known her for that long, but my heart is telling me to not make all of these assumptions about her. I have no room to play the victim here. I don't even know if she's gay or not, if she's into me. I need to find out before I start making assumptions about anything, whether it's her seducing me or being in a relationship with an older man. Other than just asking her…how the hell am I supposed to find out?

They've been talking for a long time. I would have heard if anything more happened by now. That studio echoes. Right when I'm about to peek around the corner, I hear their footsteps coming toward this direction. I pick up pieces of their hushed conversation:

"_Tell me you'll come back. The new season begins next week. Tell me you'll try out for Number Three."_

"_I'll need to think about it."_

"_Lulu…this is a brilliant opportunity. You've clearly found the right motivation. Why do you hesitate?"_

"…_I'm afraid of losing myself again."_

"_Trust her, and you won't be lost. I can guarantee you. This is the kind of darkness that deserves to be explored."_

"_And if I don't manage to find my way out? I was alone the last time."_

"_You need to be fearless as you walk this path. Explore what you've sworn yourself against."_

Lulu turns the corner and finds me standing here. "As I said, I'll think about it," she repeats, nodding to Nooj. I stare at her. He notices me staring before she does. I tell her exactly what I want with my eyes: _Whatever this path is, I want you to walk it with me. I want you to explore with me, in more ways than one. _Lulu falters before she holds my arm again, guiding me out. "Thank you for waiting for me," she whispers to me, and then turns her head to address him: "I'll come find you when I've made a decision. Have a good evening, Nooj."

I whisper back, "I'll always wait for you, however long you need me to." Lulu lets out a soft breath.

"Ladies," says Nooj as we make our way down the hall, away from him. He sounds _amused_.

.

We head back to the village, to Lulu's home. It's almost one in the morning when we get there. Only a few villagers are still sitting outside near the bonfire, unable to sleep. They smile when they see us, thinking nothing of our closeness. That's too bad. It makes me want to change their minds, make sure that they know exactly how I feel about her. I still haven't figured out how to do that, or how to make sure Lulu wants me back. I already know I'll be up all night thinking about it during my insomnia.

Lulu only stays inside for a few minutes to take her jewelry and makeup off, and collect her nightgown. She goes back out to take a bath behind the hut. I don't follow her, however much I want to. I change into the shorts and sleeveless shirt she bought for me, and get into bed to pretend I'm asleep once she's back. This is when I realize there's no point in _thinking _about this.

There's only one thing that comes to mind. Only one thing I want to do; only one thing that feels right. It'd be inexcusable if it went wrong. I close my eyes and try to imagine it going right. I fall asleep to the rhythm of that sexual beat from Lulu's heart against mine. I open my eyes the second I realize I'm dreaming. I don't want anything happening to my mouth, dream or not. I'm tossing and turning once Lulu makes it back. She stops in the middle of the hut for a moment before going to hang her dress up. I can smell the crispness of fresh water over her skin.

"Are you asleep?" she asks, walking over to me. I don't open my eyes. She has her answer. "Your insomnia worries me, Paine." Lulu sits down on the bed, moving her hand to the curve of my shoulder. Her long, long hair is down—I feel it against my back. "I don't want to have you drink my tea again. While it will put you to sleep, it is far too strong for you. I'm not sure if there's any other way I can help."

My voice is muffled against the pillow, "If you're worried about me, I'll drink the tea."

"You're sure?" No…I really don't want to have any more nightmares. I hate when she worries about me—that's much worse. Lulu stands, and goes to the furnace. "I'll do what I can to make it more agreeable for you. Keep in mind that this is only temporary. This tea isn't meant to cure insomnia."

"Then what will?" I ask, not all that interested in knowing.

Lulu says it so simply: "Talking it out. Discussing." Suddenly, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. "You tend to be at ease whenever you're not the topic of our conversations. I can only guess that you're hiding something from me. Naturally, it makes me curious." She holds that same cup in her hand, warming the herbs and water with her magic. I turn away. "Paine," she says, disapproving, "You said you'd drink it." I feel like she's babying me. I don't like it. "Come on, it won't kill you."

I sit up just enough, and take the cup from her hands. "I'm not afraid of dying," I say, frowning at the tea. I take a few sips, grimacing at the taste. It's definitely not as strong as last time. "What _is _this, anyway? Some old remedy?"

"It's made with rare spices and herbs from the Farplane," she says, watching my expression change from grumpy to gaping. Lulu goes on, "They're meant to realign the mind and spirit with good health. They tend to have the strongest effect on those who are in need of spiritual cleansing. With that cleansing comes a certain clarity you may not have had before. I wasn't surprised to learn of the dream you had."

I drink the rest of the tea without stopping to take a breath, without stopping to look at her. She's making me think she knows. She knows. She knows, doesn't she? I wanted her to know on _my _terms, not like this. And if she hasn't acted on it…

Fuck.

"Finished already?" she observes, taking the cup from my hands. Lulu stands to go set it with the rest of the used dishes. "I'll return to the theater tomorrow to let Nooj know of my decision. We can go together. I assume you'll have an answer for Leblanc by then as well. After that, you can help me move, as you promised yesterday. I'm sure Wakka and the others will want to help. It's only to the hut across the way. Chappu should have his home to himself."

For days, I've wanted to ask why she moved in with him in the first place. There's something she's not telling me.

"Where do you want me?" I ask instead, sounding hollow.

Lulu doesn't—or does—get what I mean. "With me," she replies, "Though we'll only have one bed. I don't want you sleeping on the floor." She returns to me. I turn around to look up at her. I bite my lip, waiting for her to keep speaking. "Will you move over, or do you prefer to sleep closest to the entrance?"

I don't move. I don't say a word. Lulu walks around to the foot of the bed, and crawls over to the free space beside me. She gets under the blanket and turns away from me. That's supposed to be lights out, the end of the conversation. I stare at the fabric-ceiling, listening to her breathe beside me. She still has that crisp, clean smell about her. I fantasize about how I want her to react if I reach over to hold her. She wouldn't push me away if I try. The problem is that I never _just _want to hold her. If I'm going to do this, I need to learn how.

Lulu's not one to rush things. She always takes her time, with everything. That's all I have to go by.

"Lulu." I say her name only to taste it. She turns around a little, and then more when I hold her close to my chest. She breathes onto my neck, deeply. "I want you to go back to dancing. You want it, too. Tell him yes." I don't stop myself from holding the small of her back, pulling her waist into my thighs. Her breath hitches; I groan at the heat that rushes between my legs. "I won't go work for Leblanc if you don't want me to."

Lulu smoothes her hand over my collar bone, pushing, lightly. I stop myself from growling, from getting possessive. "What makes you think I don't?" she asks, quietly.

"I get the feeling you don't approve of the job," I try, playing it safe for now. "You didn't look too happy about it."

"I could very well say the same about you, in the theater," she counters. I smile against her hair. "You clearly don't approve. Why are you still encouraging me?"

I should have held her so much sooner. "It looks like you're motivated this time. I wonder what changed." That damn tea…making me fall asleep. Why now…? "I saw how…expressive you were. Concentrating on me…you stared at me. You didn't care about anyone else in the room… Lulu, you—" My neck and face are impossibly heated. I have to say the words: "…you seduced me. Long before that."

"And you inspired me," she whispers, easing my weight on top of her. No…I'm dreaming again… "There was another in your place. You know him. I wondered why I could never do the things Nooj suggested to me—not with him. I always began the seduction, and yet it never felt right. I forced it for the sake of my art. And now Chappu is still obsessed with me, with anyone who looks like me…"

I hold onto her bare arms, to wake myself up; to make sure I'm hearing this right. Her breathing picks up; she moves my hands to the silk covering her breasts, putting pressure there. No matter how close we are, I feel her barrier, here. She's more experienced than I am. I'm fucking clueless. She's keeping too much from me. I'm falling harder, harder, _harder_. She spreads her legs, settling my hips in this wet-warm space. I breathe in mouthfuls of her scent that reaches me—like life itself.

"Now, you will sleep, here, in my arms, and wait," she orders. "You claim you will wait for me. My sexual tension must go to my art. I want to see how you fare during these months until the production is over." I tremble, settling myself in place. I try to keep my mind to one place, to keep it from expanding too far beyond my reach—_I can't believe this._

I want to ask if she's using me. I want to ask if she's only entertaining me for the attention, for the so-called motivation. Even if I do ask, she could easily lie to me. All at once, I feel like a child again: a child who knows nothing, _nothing_, except for this sweetness, this torture. And now, the only impossible option available to me is to grow up in days, weeks, or months, to figure this out, to see as someone with the same experience as her.

Anyone else would run, or get angry. All over again, I find a way to give her the benefit of the doubt. If I'm a fool for doing this, I'll suffer the consequences later. For now, I listen to her…and sleep.


	6. Six of Spades

**Note: **I know you still read my work.

.

_Shared dream, from Lulu's mind, warped into mine from the sexual closeness we share in sleep: _

_Lulu wears all white, graceless as she moves beneath the solitary light in this darkness. She searches for something in that endless ink, where no words are written for her to follow. Violins and flutes play, as soft as her mindset—she thinks she is safe there, alone in the light where no one can reach her. _

_She's not. She's never safe unless I'm with her. _

_I approach her from behind, quietly enough to keep my heels from making a sound. When she feels my presence, she looks in the wrong direction, trying to spot me there. I stop; my leather blends and bleeds into the black around me. She is clever enough to turn all the way around. Lulu stares through me. Her fear continues to rise—she feels me, she can't see me. This music picks up with her emotions, her uncertainty. I dare to keep walking, silently, holding her with my eyes. If she's perceptive enough, she'll notice my crimson irises soon._

"_Who's there?" she asks, sounding like a helpless child. I smile, licking my four sharpest teeth. "I hear you, wherever you are! What do you want from me?"_

"_Everything you don't want to give."_

_I hold her from behind, supportive, seductive. Lulu shudders in my arms, sniffling like a lost child. The light from above doesn't reach me. Her fears, her wants—they fill me, sating me for the moment. Once that moment is over, I grab her; whip her around in my hold. She pushes against me, half-hearted. I know she doesn't want me to stop. _

_Making me wait, telling me no…it's nothing but an act. I'll take my chances and go with my intuition._

"_You're not fooling me," I growl out, guiding her down to the floor. "Not anymore." _

_Lulu is scared, trembling; terrified of letting me _see _her. I bite down over the pure, thin fabric of her dress, tearing, shredding it off of her body. Lulu holds me, holds me hard, raking her nails through my scalp. How she bends her body for me, twisting: she dances in place underneath me, moved to thoughtlessness in passion. She stops thinking, stops fighting against me, lets me taste her neck, kiss her here. I grip her hips, digging my fingertips into her skin, tasting with touch. Her body heat burns my lips, down her chest, mouthful of her breasts one at a time; her chest hitches, she pulls me up and into her; she breathes her needs into me, kissing me, lips full and searching. _

_Her mouth opens, tilting up and into mine, tongue waiting, submissive. I fall into her; I _am _her. _

_She responds to me more, opens to me—she spreads her legs without thought, giving me room to break her as I please. "Kill me," she begs, digging her nails into my arching back; "Kill these lies I've bred… Kill the tears I've shed—over never having one…as fearless as you, who would dare defy what I say." _

.

_There is only one God, and His name is Death.  
And there is only one thing we say to Death: "Not today."_

I sit alone in the large, dusty library of Balfonheim's theater that afternoon, reading as much as I can about Lulu's world. The faint echo of classical music reaches me from the stage down the hall. Lulu is there, surrounded by other dancers, and Nooj, trying out for a part in the Black Waltz production. I know she'll get the part she wants. I've already told Leblanc that I'll work for Rising Sun, starting later tonight. During the day, I'm free to do as I please. Lulu doesn't know I'm still here.

As I discover more and more about Black Waltz—not only the dance, but the ideology—I understand her views, her way of thinking. Everything about her is clearer. I go back and re-read what the plot of the story is, the one that the dancers intend to play out onstage:

_With the Crusaders and Yevon's army designed as a military advancement against Sin, and the temple summoners as a mythical force using the fayth to defeat it, the Black Waltzes were created by three powerful black mages as magical tools of destruction in order to protect the citizens of Spira. The three Black Waltzes were at first lifeless, bird-like creations that existed only to kill. Death was their God in place of Yevon, and Death would not take them so long as they were insensible: perfect. Perfection was to be their shield against the infallibility of life and mortals. The people of Spira distrusted them, believing only in the tried-and-tested ways of the summoners and Yevon's military forces. Wrought with shame, the three creators sacrificed themselves in order to give life to their creations. Thus were the Black Waltzes reborn with the thoughts, emotions and motivations of their individual creators._

_Number One, the weakest of the three, decided he could not live alone, and went off to find companionship. Number Two, the harshest of the three, decided he could not accept his brother's weaknesses, and swore off depending on others as he went to explore Spira. Number Three, the strangest of the three, decided to wait alone in the Den of Woe until she knew what she wanted. Eventually, she learned that she wanted only to be perfect, to forget the shame that had given life to her. She knew she could not be perfect without the opinions of others, and she knew she could not be so without a companion who loved her for her perfection. She knew that she could not leave the Den of Woe—all of her truest wants and desires had found their way to the pyreflies inside the cave. She had to stay in order to keep anyone from learning her secrets. _

_She waited._

_In her patience, Number Three achieved Nirvana: complete peace of mind, free of anguish and greed—to ignore the calls around her from the pyreflies. She believed she wanted someone as patient as her, as perfect as her. She would not settle for anything less. Adventurers came and went, all claiming they would wait for her, and be the perfection she deserved. After she seduced them, their mysteries were revealed to her, and boredom reigned. She dismissed them, waiting patiently for the next. _

_Number One returned with his friend, Bevelle's Prince, telling Number Three of their adventures together throughout Spira. The Prince did not immediately fall to Number Three's seductions as the others had. He maintained his composure, courting her with respect, well-aware of her history and the games she once played. His fearlessness inspired Number Three to stop her old habits. Number Two also returned, and found his sister falling for the stranger, the outsider their brother had brought. Outraged, Number Two killed the Prince, ordering his siblings to trust never again._

_In his sorrow, Number One attacked Number Two, to no avail. Number Two quickly executed his brother in retaliation. He then turned to his sister, asking if she would attempt to slay him next. She looked to the Prince, dead upon the ground. Number Two looked to the pyreflies that held within all of his sister's deepest desires: there he saw her hopeful, happy life with the Prince that could never be. Enraged by her vulnerability, Number Two asked his sister to choose between happiness and perfection: to kill herself to be with the Prince, or to live on and maintain her Nirvana without depending on others. _

_The story ends on that note, for the readers to make their own decision in Number Three's place. It is traditional for the dancers chosen as Number Three to side with Number Two, and end the story with the theme of independence. There is no record of any productions ending with Number Three's suicide._

.

I spend so long in the library that the try-outs are over by the time I remember where I am. I leave and make my way down the hall, going over to where a bunch of dancers are looking at something on the wall. They're jostling each other lightly, some cheering; most take one look at what's on the wall and turn around, dejected. I go over to the paper there: it's a list of who's playing each role. I already know which one Lulu's playing, but I look just to make sure…

_Number Three. _I don't see her name here. I stare at this space on the list for a long time, wondering what the hell Nooj was on about last night if he didn't even pick Lulu for the role. Isn't this the one she's best at? She played it before, three years ago. I don't see her name _anywhere _on here! What the fuck?

I look down the hall and notice where most of the disappointed dancers are coming and going from. I head over there, expecting to see Lulu. She's not here. I see Nooj in his office, offering curt words of encouragement to a group of girls who didn't get the part they wanted. I go right in, not caring how pissed off I look. Nooj smiles at me anyway, and has the dancers leave us alone. They close the door on their way out.

"Paine," he says, leaning on his desk, "It's good to see you again." Before I can go off on him, he raises his hand. "I know why you're here. You want to know why I didn't give the part to Lulu. The answer is simple."

"Does _she _know?" I ask.

Nooj nods. "I stopped her about a minute into her audition and spoke with her in private," he tells me, sounding sympathetic. "Much to my surprise, she's improved _tremendously_. She's far too talented for this small island. She deserves to be in the theaters in Luca, in Bevelle—"

"So you spent three years telling her she wasn't good enough, and now she's _too good_?"

"Well…yes," he replies, puzzled. He doesn't get why I'm this angry.

Something inside of me breaks.

"And you think this is fucking fair?!" I shout, stalking over to him. I get right in his face, not caring how much taller or stronger he is than me. "This is all Lulu wanted for three whole years! She wanted to prove herself, get back out there and perform!"

"She will, Paine," he says, too calm. "I've assigned her to be an alternate for Number Three in the mean time, as well as an apprentice under my guidance. It will be something else for her to put on her résumé once she moves her way up to the real audiences. We've already discussed the details. All she needs to do now is find a way to move to Luca once this show is over."

I don't understand. I don't… "If that was the case, you could have told her last night," I point out. "You saw her dance. If it only took you a minute today to realize all of this, you could have gotten it over with yesterday. Why did you drag this out?"

Nooj grins at me. "Normally, I'd agree with you," he answers. "But there's a key difference between her performance last night, and the one she gave today." Now he's about to give me some bullshit response— "She was nervous when you were there. Today, when you weren't watching, that nervousness went away, and Lulu blossomed into all she could be. And when she did, that was when I saw all of the potential she had locked away all this time. You brought it out in her." How does he know all of this? And if it's true, how did it happen? "I won't let her settle for Balfonheim."

"She was nervous…?" I repeat, unwilling to believe it. "How?"

He doesn't have an answer for me, not right away. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this when he finally asks me, "You think she's flawless, don't you?" I stare at him, unsure of how to reply. I never considered Lulu to be perfect or imperfect. She just _is _to me. "It's quite the act she performs. You'd be surprised at how…human she is." I walk over to the nearest window, watching the sun start to set over the sea. "I once criticized her performance for being too perfect. She had a lot to hide. But today she was—open, vulnerable. Her thoughts of you, her recent discoveries showed in her presentation."

I focus on the sunlight glittering over the sea, steadily letting this sink in. "How do you know all of this?" I ask, soft in my disbelief. "I've only known her for a couple of weeks. She didn't like me all that much when we first met. Things are better now, but she and I—we're both too closed off."

"I can't betray her privacy," is all he says.

I shake my head, making my way out of his office. "I need to find her," I declare, opening the door.

"She'll be in her dressing room down the hall, most likely," he tells me. "Paine?" I stop in the doorway. "Lulu thinks highly of you. More than I can say. If you don't believe me, get her to show it." Nooj laughs, because he _knows_ I have no idea how. "Just—be fearless for her, and the rest will follow. I promise."

.

_Be fearless for her_. He makes it sound like Lulu's not the person she seems to be.

I hover outside of the closed door of Lulu's dressing room, hesitating to knock. I think of her, how I started to feel this way for her. She's a beautiful, talented, caring person. Every time I've gotten a hint that she's more than what she appears to be, it struck another match inside of me, and another. Before today, I never associated _open _and _vulnerable _with her. Nooj has known her for longer than I have, differently than Chappu and Wakka know her. I have to believe him. And the dream I had this morning…

Right when I'm about to knock, Lulu opens the door. She doesn't look at me. She turns back around and sits in front of her lit mirror. "I heard your heels down the hall," she says, putting the last pin in her hair. I look around to the black walls, to the lights around her mirror. Lulu stands out in this lighting, more than usual. She has that neutral expression on her face, the one I haven't seen since we were in Luca. That can't be good. "Come in. I'm almost finished."

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

Lulu stops what she's doing. She stares at me through her mirror. I move behind her, and bend down to hold her around her neck and shoulders. "Paine." She says my name like she wants me to stop. There are teardrops on her vanity. That breaks my heart; I hold her tighter. "…what is this for?"

"It's my fault, for encouraging you," I start. Lulu frowns, not understanding. She doesn't know that I know. I make sure she sees me wipe away the moisture on the surface in front of her. Lulu takes a sharp breath, turning her head away; shutting her eyes. "I'm sorry if he hurt your pride again—"

"—stop this," she orders, controlling herself. Lulu tenses her body to keep from shuddering in my hold. I feel sick to my stomach, knowing how badly this will go. "Let go of me, _right now_." I stay put. I don't let go of her. Lulu tries to retaliate; she ends up stopping that, pressing the back of her hand over her nose and mouth. Her voice trembles, she's losing her control: "Paine—_stop_…stop!"

"I'm not doing anything—"

"—you are!" Lulu stands all of a sudden, pulling away, out of my reach. "For years, that man was the only thing that stood in the way of all I've wanted… And now that I've finally improved, he decides that I shouldn't be here—because of you!"

I don't get angry like she expects me to. I stand here and listen to her, try to understand. I understand that this is irreversible, and she may never forgive me for this. _This _being that I've inspired her to be more than what she is, according to Nooj, and from what she told me last night. If I'd known her for a long time, maybe it would be easier for both of us to know how this happened.

We have to accept it. I've accepted it. I know she hasn't. It's possible that she never will. The thought of not being able to get to know her more, to be with her—it scares me…

_Be fearless for her._

"Lulu, you and I both know it was never about you _improving_," I tell her, stern enough to get her attention. "You're the best fucking dancer on this island, and you know it! All Nooj wanted was for you to change your outlook." She looks angry with me for a second. That anger soon turns to regret. "Now that you have, why can't you take all of this as a compliment? It's a new opportunity for you."

Lulu tries to move me out of the room. "You shouldn't be here," she says, opening the door.

"What the hell?" I growl, slamming the door shut again. "Don't take the focus away from you. Don't push me away! Are you honestly _that _afraid of change?" The way Lulu looks away from me tells me I'm right. I would've never thought… "Are you scared to get out there and make a name for yourself? I get that Besaid and Balfonheim are familiar to you, but it can't be enough for you. You're way too good to have to suffer all these bitchy people in this Company who don't respect you."

"How can you say this to me? You and I hardly know one another," she accuses, moving to the farthest corner of the small room, away from me. I can't say that doesn't hurt. "You have no idea…"

I drop my resentment and beg of her, "Then _show me_."

Lulu turns to face me. She stops from folding her arms. She stops scowling. "What are you asking of me?"

"I'm asking for an honest chance to get to know you, without—" I gesture to the space between us; "—this. I don't want this." I breach the distance between us. She can act like she doesn't want this, I don't care—I hold her anyway. "Please, think about it. I'm not going anywhere. You told me to wait for you. Let me get to know you more in the mean time. Yeah, you know I want you, but…you need me as a friend first. So until you decide you need more from me, let me be this much for you."

Lulu doesn't say anything. She hooks our arms together and has us walk back to the village. At a time like this, I welcome her silence. She could have told me to fuck off, or that any _chance _I had with her is over. She didn't.

.

I've lost too much to make the same mistakes I did in the past: not showing relevant people that I care about them, that I would do more for them than I let on. I knew Baralai and Yuna for so long—the idea of us never seeing each other again just wasn't possible. Walking back into the village with Lulu is something I can't take for granted. I want to treat every day with her like I won't see her again, but, I know. I know. She needs to find her footing first on this new ground with me. She won't go at anyone else's pace except her own. Her _pace _is what keeps me in check.

When we see Chappu and Wakka standing in the middle of the village together, waiting for us by the bonfire, I see now why she has such little patience for them. They're always trying to hurry Lulu along, in a sense, get her to socialize more, laugh more, smile more, live more. They push her so much that all they've done is push her away. Dancing was her only friend before I met her.

I wonder if she resents them.

"Hey-hey, Lu!" calls Wakka, waving at us both. He and his brother hurry over to us. "Are we lookin' at the next Number Three or what—?"

Lulu scoffs, loudly, and makes a sharp turn into her hut. I stumble over in her direction before she pulls her arm out of my reach, disappearing inside. Chappu and Wakka stare at me for an explanation.

I sigh before muttering, "She didn't get the part."

They both exclaim, "WHAT?!" at the same time, gaping now.

"It's a long story," I tell them. "Her instructor basically thinks she's too good for the part now. He told her to move to Luca, dance for the _real _audiences there."

"Luca?" asks Chappu. "Is he crazy? He can't know how expensive it is to live there! She can't afford that!"

"She didn't discuss that with me," I say. Wakka groans and goes back to the bonfire, looking guilty about making Lulu upset. Chappu stays with me, glancing at his—and Lulu's—hut not too far away. "It's not a good idea to talk to her right now. I'm guessing she wants to put off moving until the morning." Lulu emerges as soon as I say that. She doesn't look at us, instead making her way to the temple.

Chappu nods, knowing. "Oh yeah, she's upset," he agrees. "She don't go there unless it's serious, you know? I think listenin' to the hymn calms her down." I consider going to her. I dismiss the idea right away. This isn't a good time. I pushed her enough as it is, back in her dressing room. I don't want her to resent me down the line. "You're leavin' her alone?"

"For now," I reply. Chappu looks down at his feet, kicking a nearby pebble. "I have to head back to town, anyway. I found a job—it's a night shift."

"You did?" he asks as I turn back around. "Well—where's it at, ya? Can I come visit you some time?"

I only wave my hand over my shoulder as I go. There is no way in hell I'm telling him where I work.

.

Leblanc slicks my hair back with clear gel, and has me wear a fitting suit jacket over my regular clothes. She guides me to a reclining chair in the back of the club, mostly removed from my co-workers, promising me it will go with my _therapy _act. I lie down in the chair with a glass of champagne, watching her practically dance her way back to the front of the building. Before all of this, she gave me the rundown of how things really work in Rising Sun. She was careful to warn me that I may have a completely different experience. I sip on the champagne, nodding to the other host boys who greet me with smirks. The buddies among them whisper about me, probably curious as to why Leblanc hired me. They're smart to not come up to me and ask.

"_My boys here exist to serve the women who come through our door," _I remember Leblanc saying, in all seriousness. She managed to not flirt with me throughout her entire explanation. _"If the women wish to be—serviced—they always get what they want. Mind you, my boys know how to play it up: flirt with them, talk to them, and act like the women are the most interesting beings they've ever known. It's better for sex to come at a later stage in the 'relationship.' The mystery is lost once the women get what they want. They may decide not to come back, and that's less money for us. So, to prolong that from happening, the idea is to essentially play mind games. Make the girls fall in love with them. If they're in love, they'll spend more money and they'll keep coming back! But you…your role here is different._

"_I want you to convince the women who come up to you to be more daring! Encourage them to step out of their shells. Talk to them about the inevitable girl-on-girl fantasies they've had. Ask them if they've ever gone down on another woman. Whatever! Just make sure they want to keep coming back to speak with you. For your own sake, do NOT offer to be the one they experiment with. You are my only employee who is forbidden from kissing or fucking your customers. Before you ask, it has nothing to do with homophobia—I simply don't want there to be any…_feelings _between you and your women once they decide to leave! You're more than welcome to recommend them to make out with another patron… I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind."_

For the first hour or so, the only women who come through the door are regulars. They know exactly which host boy they want to see, and exactly how much they're willing to spend tonight. I observe the girls, how they laugh loudly when the boys tease them and joke around, and how they'll close their legs whenever their host puts his hand anywhere near their hips. I can tell why they're attracted to the boys—they're handsome enough, wearing suits, giving them their undivided attention, that is, until another customer comes up. Then the boys are caught in between giving each of the girls equal attention. Some of the girls tug on their arms whenever they get up to talk to someone else, or they'll pout, or they'll be passive-aggressive about it by staring at their nails or something.

There's a brunette now who looks up from her long nails, noticing me staring at her. I don't look away. I want to see where this goes. She shakes out the collar of her dark button-down shirt and the bangles there, moving the falls of hair from her face. Her sharp blue eyes move down to my jacket, my chest. Her whole expression softens, her chest rises and stays there with the breath she holds in; she stands right away, holding her hand out in front her host's face when he tries to ask where she's going, and walks right past him.

"I've never seen you here before," she says, confident as she takes the seat across from me. I don't smile at her. I just nod. She shifts in her seat and leans forward, smirking. She's dangerous. "They actually hire women now? How'd _you_ manage to get the job?"

Right…_this _is why I don't have any experience with dating or hooking up. I hate talking to people I don't know. I can't get on Lulu's case about her being afraid to step out of her comfort zone if I don't try it.

"I walked in, the manager saw me and said she had to have me," I respond, nonchalant about it. She throws her head back and laughs. I can't tell if she's faking her amusement or not. "…to work for her, I mean. She thought I'd fit right in."

"And you _do_," she adds, raising her eyebrow; checking me out again. "She has a good eye, I'll give her that." She reaches down her shirt and pulls out six thousand gil. "And _I'll _give you this if you promise I'll be your only customer tonight…" I nod, reaching across the table to put the money in my pocket. This is enough to take Lulu out to a nice restaurant every night for a week… The woman smiles sweetly; she has no idea what or who is really on my mind. "So…tell me: do you normally fuck girls? Or are you just here to act like you do?"

"I'm actually a virgin," I tell her, completely serious.

She bursts out laughing again. "Uh huh…_sure _you are," she says, rolling her eyes. I sip my champagne for something to do. I guess I'll take that as a compliment… "You look like one of those dangerous, predator types. You know, the one some girl's parents would _hate _to find out about? I bet they'd be terrified of you corrupting their little girl or something!"

"I'm not much of a predator," I respond, lounging my arm over the back of my chair. "You look like you'd make a good one. You've never tried to get a girl in bed with you before?" She smirks at me. That same host boy from earlier tries to come over here—she puts her hand in his face again, pushing him away. He gives up, giving her the finger as he leaves. I don't think she cares—she has her eyes set on me. "For the record, that's not permission for you to try with me."

"Ohhh, you say that _now_," she says, throwing five thousand more gil on the table. She stands up. "That's another tip for you. Feel free to count it while I get us a bottle. Don Perignon sound good to you?"

Too many hours later, she's finished three bottles and is working on a fourth, determined for me to let her sit on my lap, or next to me—just anywhere closer. Her eyes are glassy, her face and neck are a nice shade of red beneath the dimmed lights back here, she's given me thirty thousand more gil, and I still don't know her name. Meanwhile, she has let her guard down completely, kneeling down on the ground next to me, trying to ease her head as close to my thighs as possible. She laughs too loudly whenever I make a simple _joke_ or innuendo, and I've lost count of how many times I've had to keep her from unbuttoning her shirt.

All of this attention, only because of the way I look… Lulu would never be this shallow. I feel off. I miss her.

"You don't know," this girl slurs, resting her head on the free space of my chair. "You don't—don't…you don't know…"

"What don't I know?" I ask.

She tries to put her hand over my knee, slapping it instead in her drunken stupor. "How _hard _it is…to act _normal_," she complains, way too out of it. "My boyfriend, ohh, he makes all this _money_…he knows how to pin me down and have sex…but it's _always on his terms_! Whenever _I _want it, I have to ask…and ask…and ask…and ask…and _then_—and then—you know what he does? You know? You know?"

"No, I don't," I reply, feeling sorry for her now. No wonder she threw all of this money at me. She's miserable. "What does he do?"

"MISSIONARY!" she screams, like it's the end of the world. Other people turn to stare. "And it's so…fucking…BORING! I wanna fall asleep! I just end up faking it so he'll get off of me, ugh! But I can't _tell him_ because…because…" Then she starts crying, sobbing. My eyes widen, even though I should have expected this. "…I can't hurt his feelings! That's the _last _thing I wanna do, you know? He might…he might leave me if I do that! I can't shop at Expressive anymore if he _leaves me_!"

I've had enough of this. I pick her up and take her to the bathroom. I'm thankful she can at least hold her alcohol, even if she's ended up as a crying mess on me. She lets me clean her face. That manages to sober her up enough for the time being. She's stopped crying, and she's looking at me incredulously.

"Wait…" she says, slowly making sense of this. "You're helping me… Why are you helping me?"

"You needed it."

"But I thought all you cared about was my money!" she goes on, still confused.

"I don't," I tell her, honest. She just blinks at me. "If you needed to vent to me, you could have done it without the money and the alcohol, and it would've been fine. I'll give your money back to you if you don't believe me."

She puts her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. "No," she says before swallowing, making a disgusted face. Once her nausea passes, she folds her arms over the counter, resting her head there. "No…you're different than the boys here. All they do is pretend to like you, and then try to get you out of here as fast as possible. Then they can count all their damn money you just gave them and talk shit about how you're such a slut…"

"If that's what you think, maybe you shouldn't come here anymore," I suggest. She doesn't move, or react, but I know she's listening. "You'll only hurt yourself if you keep coming back."

"Only if I see one of the boys," she points out, smiling as she stands up again. "You're the exception. You're why I wanted to come here tonight… I had to meet you." I don't respond. She takes one look in the mirror and lets out an aggravated sigh. "UGH, I'm a fucking mess! Look at me!" Then she starts using her fingers to comb out her hair, like she thinks that'll solve her problem. She lets her arms fall to her sides, sighing again. "I can't be seen like this. I need to go…"

I escort her out of the bathroom. "That's a good idea," I agree.

She leans on me a little while I walk with her to the club's back exit. "Will you be here later tonight?" she asks as we make it outside. The sun is already out. "I wanna talk to you again… You know, without all the drinks and me making a fool out of myself…" I look away from her. "I'll pay you! I won't even make you promise to keep me to yourself. You deserve to have every girl all over you when you're in there…"

"Yeah, I'll be here," I say, wondering why that makes her so happy.

After we part ways, I notice the clock on the wall: it's seven in the morning. I realize how fucking _exhausted_ I am. Most of the customers have left by now except for the hardcore regulars, making out with their hosts or having suggestive conversations. I seriously spent all night and morning listening to that girl sob about her straight problems, and watching her get completely wasted. I drag my feet through to the front of the building, finding Leblanc behind the counter by the register, counting her funds for the night.

Leblanc smiles at me, impish. "And how much has my _fabulous_ cross-dresser made tonight?" she asks.

I reach in my pocket to hand her my contribution. "Fifty thousand," I say, prepared to hand her the ten percent I owe her.

When she closes the register, I pause. "Keep it, love," she says, reveling in my confusion. Leblanc leans closer to me, lowering her voice. "I saw what you did for your customer. You went out of your way to make her feel better. If _any _of the boys had that kind of situation on their hands, they would have freaked out, acted like she was some kid whose _diaper _needed to be changed!" She rolls her eyes. "Anyway! Like I said, keep all of it." Leblanc licks her lips, narrowing her eyes. She's obviously thinking of something sexual when she says to me, "Maybe you can use that to take Lulu out on a nice, romantic date on your night off…"

"Right," I reply, ruffling my hair so it's back to normal. That's actually not a bad idea. Leblanc knows she's right; she giggles as I make my way out. "I'll see you in about twelve hours."

I keep the suit jacket on to stay warm in this morning chill. I'm half-aware of my feet taking me back to the village. I decide that the job isn't all that bad. As long as I don't have to interact with those guys, and I don't have to deal with any more crying women, it'll be fine. I can't say I've ever had this much gil on me at one time. I should probably spend some of it soon—or, better yet, now—before someone gets the bright idea to mug me in broad daylight. I doubt there's much open this early in the morning. Just as I think that, I see a woman unlock the door to a shop across the way. When I see what's behind the windows, I head over without a second thought.

.

All of the early birds are out and about when I make it back to the village. I don't look at them. I don't want them to come up to me and start conversation about what I'm hiding behind my back. Right before I enter Lulu's hut, I stop. I'm struck with a sickening image of Chappu standing by her bed, staring at her, like he wants to do something with her. I shake my head to clear that thought, stepping through to the chilled interior.

Lulu is awake, dressed already, sitting on her bed. I can't stop myself from smiling, just from seeing her again. Going by how slow she is to react to me walking over to her, it looks like she didn't sleep all night. She's even slower to look at one of my arms, noticing that I'm holding something out of her view. She takes her time, tilting her head to one side as I stop a few paces away.

"Are…you all right?" I ask, not too sure this gift is such a good idea.

She ignores my question, asking her own, "You were at work?"

"I was…"

"Did you make any money?"

I nod.

Lulu gets this disappointed, far-away look in her eyes. She turns her head to stare at the bed opposite her. "How much…?" she asks.

"Enough to buy you these," I say, handing her the fresh bouquet of violet roses. Lulu stares at them. "It's a thank you…for helping me when I was sick. For letting me into your life when you didn't have to." Her hands tremble a little as she holds them out, taking the flowers in her arms. Lulu's acceptance deepens me, unbearably, opening me so much that I have to tell her more. "And for being impossibly beautiful—I can't look away from you, no matter who else wants my attention." She closes her eyes to smell the roses right as I say that. Heat rises to her neck and face. Lulu turns away, like she doesn't want me to see her reaction to me. That alone is enough to fill me, saccharine sweet. I kneel down, knowing my face is as red as hers. "You know, I've never done this before… But I'm glad—I'm glad that you're here, and that I can do this for you." I don't know if I've said too much. Lulu won't look at me. I glance over to the boxes she's packed of her belongings. I'm suddenly not tired anymore. "I can help you take those to your place now, if you want."

Lulu nods, turning her head to smell the flowers again. I hear Wakka and Chappu, their footsteps, their voices just before they walk in. Heat from outside eases through the entrance with them. They stop in their tracks. I don't have to turn around to know their reaction to this scene. I freeze in place, exploding possibilities out of proportion—if they, or if _someone _didn't like this; if they decided to hurt her, just like I was afraid _they _would do to Yuna if people found out. I shouldn't have done this. I forgot the whole reason I left Bevelle, too caught up in her, in Lulu, in her life, in everything.

"So," begins Wakka, taking a few steps forward, "You two, uh, mind explainin'…what's goin' on…?"

"Why?" asks Lulu, finding herself again, her usual attitude. She stands, holding the flowers. I keep my eyes to her belts. "Whether you've noticed or not, I've been upset. Paine brought me flowers to cheer me up. What else is there to assume? Don't tell me you already have something _specific _in mind."

"No, it's just—!" She's made him feel stupid. Wakka sighs. "I dunno, okay?! I was just—just asking!"

Lulu's tone tells me she's glaring at him. "I find that hard to believe," she comments. "On second thought, I don't need the two of you to help me. You've made this awkward when it doesn't need to be in the first place. Paine will take care of it by herself."

Wakka doesn't have it in him to argue the point. He mumbles his acknowledgment and leaves.

"Lulu," says Chappu, grim, "You can fool my brother, but I know what this looks like. Ever since I came back with Paine, you…haven't been the same. I know you…"

"No, you don't," she argues. "It is precisely _because _you don't that you and I will never be. Do _not _flatter yourself by thinking you know what this is. Whatever leftover feelings or thoughts you have about us ends now. I'm tired of having this conversation with you." I feel his eyes on the back of my head. I scowl, wondering why the hell he's looking at _me _now. "She's already told you she is not interested."

Chappu takes a deep breath, like he's stopping himself from exploding at her. "After all these years we've known each other…all the times I supported you…now you treat me like this?"

"Don't quantify your affections for me. All it makes me want to do is tear them apart…one by one."

That's enough to make him leave. I keep staring at Lulu's belts, trying to figure out what the fuck I've gotten myself into. It feels like I can't move unless she tells me to, but my common sense tells me to run far, far away from her. This cold, uncaring side of her—I should be afraid of it, concerned by it, convinced that she'll show it to me one of these days once she's sick of me.

Those thoughts vanish once Lulu looks down at me. She glances to the boxes over the table, and then back to me kneeling in front of her. I stand up right away and pick up as many boxes as I can. Lulu gives me a small smile over her shoulder, walking outside to the unoccupied hut across the way, still carrying the flowers in her arms; smelling them as she watches me sweat for her, do this for her.

.

**Edit. **I found out the quote I have near the beginning of the chapter about Death is from fucking Game of Thrones. Ugh. Giving credit where credit is due, blah, blah, blah.


	7. Chaining Hands

I take a bite out of my chocolate to calm myself down. It's a small bar. Thick. I use my lips and tongue to move all of it into my mouth. I let it melt there as I sit here and listen. They don't need me to smile to think that I'm all right. _Calm myself down _may not be the right term. I will never be calm again. For as long as this sickeningly strong feeling in my chest goes on, I'll never know peace. If Lulu knows, she acts like she doesn't; it grows stronger. I don't know if I get off on her ignoring this loudness inside of me.

Rising Sun has changed quite a lot during the three months I've worked here. Women who come through the door ask their host boys about me: how it is I have seven or more girls surrounding me each night, all of them talking, drinking and laughing with each other like they've been best friends for years. I heard some bullshit talk from the guys about how my customers have made a book club back here, and I'm the book. Sometimes Leblanc will come over and join in on their conversations about boyfriend problems, or the latest foundation they bought, or how some sleazy guy made a pass at them on their way here. Other times, I'm the topic of their talks. They want to know more about me, what I care about. Meaningless stories about Bevelle, about the city, tend to tide them over. I won't dare tell them about Baralai, Yuna, my parents—never Lulu, either. I don't speak of her, and yet she is always _here_.

It seems like all of them have had that one female friend they thought about experimenting with. As I've listened to their stories of how they really only wanted their friend's attention, it made me think too much about my situation. Lately, instead of thinking, I will drink with my customers instead. Champagne, champagne, champagne, every fucking night, over and over, like it'll solve something. It's blissful, being too heavy to move back to those thoughts of how Lulu pushes me away whenever I try to hold her, touch her. I can't do more. I'm terrified of her shutting me out completely. I need to make progress. The production is next week. She won't be performing, she's still an alternate, that girl who has the part of Number Three will _never _give it up to anyone, especially not Lulu, I'm spinning, it's early-late, _I want her_, I'm soaking wet from this wanting, thinking formless thoughts of taking her even with her screaming at me to _stop_—

"Wake up, love," Leblanc says to me, smiling. It is four in the morning, and my customers have work in five hours. They're all standing, hugging each other, giving slightly slurred and giggly goodbyes. "Off in your own world again, are we?"

My head feels heavier than lead when I stand, letting them all hug me and whisper in my ear. I find it strange that they say they'll see me again next week. Then I remember that Leblanc told me to take tomorrow and the weekend off. And now, she's looking at me like she wants me to say what's on my mind. As if she could possibly understand, or be there for me. She has already collected the club's share of the money I made tonight. There's nothing else to say.

"I'll see you next week," I tell her, going to the back exit. Regardless of what I thought a few seconds ago, it still hurts that she doesn't say anything before I leave.

I walk with my sword in hand back to the village, through this freezing winter night-morning. Holding the hilt gives me something to do, something else to focus on. Yet the tip of my blade drags along the ground in my wake. I don't have the strength to put it over my shoulder. I don't have the courage to sheathe it completely out of sight, either. It's turned into my only friend these days.

Chappu won't speak to me. Ever since that day he and Wakka walked in on me giving Lulu those flowers, he's been avoiding everyone. He'll come out of his hut to practice blitzball with his team on the beach, but that's it. As far as I know, he isn't speaking to Lulu, either. Wakka tried to play the mediator for a while, but it just ended up pissing me off, so I told him to stop. I can tell he wants things between the four of us to be all right—except they never were in the first place. How can he try to go back to something we never had? There's something they're not telling me. I've given up on wondering about it. There's something more important going on.

A few weeks ago, we had some refugees make their way to Besaid. They were in Kilika when Sin came out of nowhere and destroyed the place, killing almost everyone who lived there. I've been paranoid, convinced that Sin could decide any day now to attack us here. I don't care about the summoners working to defeat it, or how long that may take. It feels like the longer I wait, the less chance I have to get away from all of this. Spira, Sin, the laws with both, and Yevon—Rising Sun is a good distraction from all of that, but it's not enough.

When I make it back to the village, no one is outside. It's too dark out without the bonfire going. I look to Lulu's hut, the one she still lets me call home. I think about how most of her actions never make sense to me. I feel like her voiceless, formless roommate. Nothing more. I don't remember the last time we actually spoke about anything, other than her asking me about my health, or if I've eaten.

I shouldn't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't talk to me. On the outside, it seems like it would be boring. She refuses to talk about herself, about her feelings or what she's going through with her dancing, or to even acknowledge if she feels _anything _for me. She'll ask me what I want to eat, or how much I drank at work, or if I managed to sleep well. Even if it's only out of habit, Lulu still does it, every day, every night, every time. No one has ever done that for me before her. I raised myself for all I care. No one had any reason to ask me these things because they assumed I had it taken care of, and I did. Maybe they didn't want to bother me. Maybe they didn't bother to think about it. No one cared to do it before Lulu—to care about me like this. It seems like such a small, insignificant thing, but…

A few moments pass before I realize my throat is constricted, and tears are streaming down my face.

I've realized why it was automatic, or easy, for me to not tell Yuna how I felt. I know she cared about me. I know she worried about me. But she was afraid to ask me about what mattered: if I was doing all right, and how I managed to feed myself when my father abandoned me. She didn't know that I snuck in my own room to get four or five hours of sleep before sneaking back out and wandering the streets. She had no idea that Baralai felt sorry for me and snuck gil into my pockets every day so I could eat. And now they're both gone—or at least I am.

And Lulu…to anyone else, it looks like she's playing games with me. She can't know how much this means to me. There's no way she could only do this to get to me. I doubt she knows me well enough to tell how sentimental, how sensitive this makes me.

That sound, that depressing sound of teardrops hitting the ground is what wakes me up. I use my boot to grind this weakness into the dirt, out of sight. I wipe my face and walk inside.

It smells of roses in here. Lulu is asleep, or lying down with her back to me. She always sleeps on the side of the bed farthest from the entrance. I keep meaning to ask her why. I look to the flowers I gave her, in a vase on the table in the middle of the hut. She takes such good care of them. I thought they'd be dead by now. Every so often, when I wake up in the late afternoon, I'll have a view of her putting fresh water in the vase, or cutting the stems, or taking off excess leaves, or putting something in the water to make the flowers last longer. I could have sworn I heard her humming as she did it. I pretend not to notice.

It's the little things she does, like this, that swells the stubbornness in my heart to harbor this for her. It's what makes me change into the tank and shorts she bought for me without embarrassment, knowing she could turn around and see me. It's what helps me get into bed with her, facing her, holding her from behind, and to kiss her warm shoulder beneath her impossibly long hair, not caring if she's aware of my affections or not. I can't be mad at her. I _want _to be…I'm stupid not to be…but I can't.

.

Only a few hours pass before I wake up. I turn over and see Lulu in her nightgown, tending to her flowers. She's not humming. She's frozen in place with her head tilted toward the entrance of the hut, as if listening for something. I try to sit up to ask what's going on, but it feels like someone shot an arrow through my head. I grip my forehead just as Lulu turns to look at me. Her gaze softens. She smiles a bit.

"Good morning," she says, knowing. I groan, lying back down. "I thought I smelled alcohol on you when you came back earlier." My head hurts too much to realize that she was awake last night. Lulu walks closer to the entrance, careful as she goes. She peers through the fabric, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "There's someone here…I don't recognize them. Several people. They look like soldiers."

My eyes dart around, trying to help my ears catch vague sounds of the conversation going on outside. I recognize one of the village elders speaking to someone. _And then_—that uppity, fucking arrogance I will never forget. My whole body stiffens. I can't think anymore.

Lulu's eyes widen when she sees him. "Paine…it's your father," she breathes out. "He's looking for you." I'm red in the face from controlling myself, keeping from bolting outside and threatening my father to leave me the hell alone. "I take it you don't wish to be found." I don't need to justify that with an answer. Lulu lingers there for a moment longer, and then moves away. She turns her back to me, head lowered, somber; deep in thought. "The General is pressuring the village elders into searching each home. They will make their way here soon…"

Neither of us knows what to say. I've calmed down from seeing this apprehension from her. I didn't expect it. I can't think about how my father is about to ruin the only happiness I've known. I won't consider being forced back to Bevelle, back to those memories, going back to being jailed in an open city. Right now, all I can comprehend is that Lulu doesn't want me to go. When she turns around, slowly, looking outside again, I can tell by her expression that she's thinking of something, feeling something.

I have no idea what to do, what to think, or what to say. We have no time to express our regrets. I look at Lulu with this helplessness I hold, allowing our unspoken wants to carry us through.

Lulu walks to me, hesitating as she steps, as she breathes. Her hesitation is so fluid, I can only tell because her every action has slowed down. "I can think of little else," she says, moving her hands to the straps of her nightgown. "Forgive me for my forwardness…"

Heat and blood rush through me by her words alone; harder, fuller when her nightgown slides down her body to the floor. Black lace covers the only secrets left to her. She covers me with her body, shielding me with her warmth, overwhelming me with both, with all of her. Everything has slowed down for both of us—this uncertainty: neither of us knows what we're doing, what this means. I don't feel the usual assurance about Lulu. I feel her softness, her hesitation; the tremble of her breaths and body as she figures out how to navigate me. This pressure against my chest constricts me; softer pressure from Lulu's hands around my wrists feel as chains. She lifts them, instructing through touch alone for me to hold her. Her lithe fingers press against my jaw, turning my head away from the entrance. Tighter I hold, gripping the curve of her hip, the bend of her shoulder. She arches into me enough, just enough in reaction; the sound she makes whitens out my mind, enslaving me to my senses alone. I breathe her, how her skin smells of leaves and flowers, how she's exerting herself now, arching more, trying to breach in between my legs, breathing harder against my neck—

"Yevon, forgive me!" shouts the village elder, backpedalling and shielding his eyes. I can't even be mad, because my father is next to him, gaping. I take a mental picture of his face. _Never forget._

Lulu lets out an offended scoff, scrambling to cover us with the blanket. "Sir Orick, _what _are you doing?!" she shouts, managing to sound shocked enough. "Who is this man? And why have the two of you decided to barge into my home?!" She keeps her head close to mine, shielding my face from view. I can still see the scene out of the corner of my eye, through her hair. Both of them are speechless. I bite down on my lower lip, hard. "Since when do you come into our homes unannounced?"

"My lady, please, Lulu, I'm sorry! The General has come from Bevelle to find his daughter! We thought that maybe you would know where she is—?"

"No!" she lies, pissed off enough to make them stumble back. "Now leave this instant!"

My father has the nerve to bow. "My deepest apologies to you, my lady…" He looks to the table. He sees my clothes folded up there. I see him thinking, planning, scheming by the sudden stiffness to his eyes. "…and to your good Sir, beneath you. I won't trouble you further."

When they both leave, Lulu and I look to each other. We don't dare breathe until we can tell that they're far enough away. And when they are, we can't help the laughter, can't stop it. I'm not thinking about how my father knows I'm here. All I care about right now is how beautiful Lulu sounds when she laughs, and how it feels to hold her when she does it. In the few months that I've known her, I've never heard her laugh. I want to hear this again sometime soon.

Lulu catches her breath, speaking into my ear. "Unfortunately, we can't stay here," she announces. I can't tell if she wants to move off of me or not. "I should have moved your clothes…your father will know you're here, somewhere." I don't react right away. I don't want to move. "What is it?"

"Is it bad that I don't want to let go of you?" I ask, hoping for the best.

She hums against my neck, sounding amused. "No…it isn't," she responds, shifting skin against sheets, reaching her hands behind her back. Lulu's next words—she tries to sound candid, yet all I can hear is her sultriness, how she sounds sensual, so sexy anyway. "But, given the circumstances, perhaps it is a bad thing… He may decide to return, and discover you here underneath me. You do realize this is illegal according to Yevon's laws and traditions. They would have to kill us."

Regret washes over me as I let go of her. Thickness and softness from Lulu's full lips linger next to my neck for a moment longer before she moves off of me. Cold emptiness replaces where Lulu's body was. She goes to put her dress on, her jewelry, but she leaves her hair down, like she doesn't have time to braid it and put it into her usual style. Her hands are shaking as she puts on less makeup than she usually wears. She's worried. _She's nervous_.

And I feel like a fucking idiot for not realizing it sooner: Lulu _does _feel the same way about me, but she's been hiding it because of these stupid ass laws. Is she that afraid of losing me that she won't give us a chance? Was asking me to wait until after the show her way of trying to buy time? We could hide it if that's what she really wanted. There are other options. There's always another way…

"Here," she says, bringing me a sea blue hooded jacket with the Aurochs' logo on the front, a long pair of shorts and some sandals. "Put these on. You'll need to leave your other clothes in your dressphere. I have a few other things for you to put in your sphere, if you have room." Lulu moves to peek outside; she takes in a sharp breath, her eyes moving in that way again, like she's having a waking dream. "We don't have much time…"

After I put the new clothes on over my tank and shorts, Lulu hands me the flowers, her dancing uniform, and all the money we have. I equip those and my other clothes to my dressphere, trying to do this without asking questions. After all this time of our same routine, it's jarring to see her moved to action like this. Lulu makes a point of putting my hood over my head. She smoothes her hands over the hood, down my face, making a decision by the self-assurance here in her eyes. I feel her certainty, how it holds me, helps me through this.

"There are soldiers posted outside," she tells me, calm. I glance to her neck—her pulse is racing. "I don't know…if Chappu and Wakka have told them. They obviously know about us, however much I've tried to keep it quiet. I don't trust them." Lulu holds my hand, taking one last look around. "There is only one other person we can trust. Come on. Let's go into town. Be discreet."

Lulu guides me outside; the strength of the sun's rays makes me feel like I'm in a place I don't recognize. Suddenly, I'm being watched, judged again. There are soldiers everywhere, questioning the villagers, blocking us from their view. I see my father walking up the steps of the temple with Wakka and Chappu. They're either diverting his attention or betraying us. Sweat coats our interlaced hands. I grip hers tighter, to thank her, to tell her without words that we're in this together. She takes a deep breath, and finds that arrogant tilt to her chin. We walk outside the village, up the hill, in between the soldiers stationed there, with circumstance and perfect timing as our only protection from getting caught.

It's the best mind fuck: our main shield is the ignorance of those around us. They assume I'm a guy because I'm dressed like one. They _really _assume I'm a guy because Lulu and I are holding hands. Those we pass by on our way to Balfonheim don't even give us a second glance. Their closed-mindedness and homophobia makes us invisible, part of the status quo; one of them, at least while it's convenient for us. I have to stop from smirking at their stupidity. I just had her on top of me, touching me, _so close_, with all of her femininity in my arms, and they have no idea that Lulu doesn't want a man to have that from her.

"You're thinking of something," she points out, eyes ahead to Balfonheim's entrance. "I can feel it."

I don't want to boast in public; someone might hear. "You know how to plan under pressure," I tell her instead. "I would have never thought of all this. I completely blanked out earlier. Thank you…"

Lulu chooses now to stay objective about things. "We're not in the clear yet," she says. From the road we're taking, I know we're headed to the theater. "This may surprise you, but Nooj is quite the expert with espionage and tactical planning. He isn't just a dance instructor."

"Then what else is he?"

"I can't really say," she replies, disappointed. "He never did choose to disclose his other career to me. All I know is that he returns to it during the off-season." Not once has Lulu glanced around, or turned to make sure we're not being followed. I stop myself from looking over my shoulder. "For now, it is best that I continue with my normal routine. Or at least that I appear to be. You're staying with me." She holds my hand tighter. I do the same. "I want to know what he thinks is best…"

.

Only the most dedicated dancers are here in the theater this early, stretching and warming up in the amphitheater. A few of them glance at my clothes, at my hand, at Lulu, at Nooj, and then go back to talking with the people around them. None of them bother looking at what little of my face is visible beneath my hood. As we walk to Nooj's office, the two of them hold a normal-sounding conversation about the show next week, and how they'll have all of the seats filled with spectators. I wonder for a moment what Lulu's really planning; if she plans to be here for the production or not. She's only an alternate for the part she wanted…

"Ladies first," says Nooj, opening the door for us. Lulu frowns at him as we go inside—he could have blown our cover if anyone followed us. He smiles at her, closing the door behind him. "I've heard the news. General Nyte is in the village searching for you." Nooj looks to me, scowling now. "Your father is a stubborn man. I could have sworn you said he didn't care about you."

"It's not _me _he cares about," I say, irritated at the reality. "I bet people asked too many questions. He looks like a bad parent for not knowing where I am. I wouldn't be surprised if the temple found some reason to demote him over it. All he cares about are appearances… If he takes me back to Bevelle, he'll end up locking me up in _his _house, ignoring my mother when she asks him to stop."

Lulu steps forward, adding: "Which is why it is in her best interest _not_ to be found." I hold back my reaction. I'm being sensitive again. Nooj can probably tell anyway. "What do you think we should do?"

Nooj sighs, thinking before he speaks. "First of all, it was a big risk for you to leave Besaid the way you did. In broad daylight," he says, like he can't believe we pulled it off. "It's only a matter of time before he makes his way to town. It isn't wise for you to stay here—either of you." Lulu and I both look at him with the same expression, needing clarification. Nooj is blunt with us: "You need to leave this island."

"Leave?" echoes Lulu, eyes wide. "Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

"No, I don't," he says, stern. "Think about it—you and Paine go everywhere with one another. Complete strangers will remember seeing you together often. The villagers, your own friends—they'll all tell her father that you know where she is. He won't leave you alone until you give him answers. I wouldn't be surprised if he's searching for both of you now. There is no way around it."

One of her worst fears: change. New places. Uncertainty. The unknown. I _know _Lulu is afraid of this. From the vibe I'm getting from her, she knows she has no choice. She's willing to face that, to do all of this for me. I've been wallowing in my misery wondering if Lulu would ever step outside of her comfort zone for me, or find some way to show me how she feels. There's no better way than this, than the situation we find ourselves in now, but the consequences still loom over our heads.

If we get caught…that's it. I don't know if Lulu is fully convinced that I'm worth the risk.

"The decision's been made," declares Nooj, hurrying us out of his office. "It won't be safe for you to move until nightfall. I'll find you after I make certain you'll be safe." I hear loud sounds of synchronized steps from people with boots on, echoing from far away—soldiers. He points us in the opposite direction. Lulu grabs my hand, running with me down the hall. "Lulu, you know where to go! I'll stall them!"

I can hardly run in these sandals, in this mindset. I didn't expect this; it blindsided me. My father's stubbornness and Lulu's determination, how both of them drive the other, and I'm caught in the middle. I can't decide whether to be scared of the possibilities, or grateful that all of this came about all of a sudden. I'm running blind with only Lulu's intuition to guide me; with my own intuition telling me that she's the only one I can trust. This push of my faith to meld with her—it lifts me higher, deeper, into her, anywhere and everywhere closer to her.

How Lulu's hair lifts and lances behind her as she runs with me, how her sight is set only on where we need to go, how our hands are chained together to see this through: I will always remember this; link it with the words she won't yet say to me. I will never doubt her again.

.

Claustrophobic.

This dry, dusty space behind one of the bookcases in the library barely has enough room for Lulu and I to fit here together. Decades ago, someone carved out a hiding spot in this wall. It would be just enough room for one person. It's both of us in here. Pitch black. We have to face each other, standing, holding one another to fit. And we have to wait for at least twelve hours for Nooj to come get us. Neither of us has eaten anything. We didn't have _time_.

Now, we have too much time. Every now and then, we'll hear those boots stomping upstairs. Or someone will scream. Or music will start and stop sporadically, along with another instructor shouting over the interruptions. I keep listening for my father. I haven't heard him yet.

I thumb at the laces of Lulu's corset along her back, half-paranoid and half-relieved. She won't be able to talk us out of things if someone gets the bright idea to move this bookcase. Lulu keeps her head over my shoulder, holding me tighter than I thought she would. Her breathing is irregular. I can hear everything in here: her blinking, swallowing, thinking; feeling. We haven't risked talking for a few hours.

As long as she's with me, I'll risk anything.

"I can't believe this," I finally say, soft enough not to surprise her. "It still hasn't sunk in."

"What hasn't?" she asks, just as soft.

I breathe in the earthen smell of her hair and makeup through this dust. "That you've done all of this," I reply. "That you're here with me. When I was in Bevelle, I knew what they did to people like me…like us." Lulu doesn't try to correct me. I go on, "I guess because I tried so hard to ignore it, I ended up forgetting all about it. This is a big reminder, only I wish you didn't have to be involved."

"It's too late to worry about me," she says. Lulu is thinking too much again. "And if you'd stayed there, what would you have done with your life? You couldn't possibly have a relationship you wanted. You couldn't get married as your parents expected of you. I don't see how you could ignore all of that."

"I didn't care about my life—that's how," I tell her, honest. She deflates a little. "I could have died any time. It wouldn't have mattered to me. Baralai knew…he trusted me to not do anything too stupid. I'd purposely wander the streets at all kinds of hours just to see what I could get away with. Eventually I figured out that no one would do anything to me because of my father…" She wants to know more. I have an example, _the _example, but I don't know how she'll react. It's too late to worry about her, like she said. "There was one night, last year, when I saw this pretty singer leaving the club she'd performed at. She looked really confident about taking the dangerous shortcuts through the city. Something told me to follow her anyway. This guy stopped her and pulled out a knife, forcing her to suck him off. I should have done something…I ended up watching for a while before I ran away."

Lulu stopped breathing as I told her the story. She still isn't breathing. "Were you aroused by the sight?" she asks, matter-of-fact and curious at the same time.

"By the _idea_, not the sight," I respond, glad she's not judging me over it. "There was a power struggle. She was confident. He had the weapon. As sick as this sounds, I kind of like that he won by forcing her into it. It looked like she was scared." I shouldn't say this. I shouldn't. "Her fear is what turned me on."

Lulu has found her breath, and it deepens, over and over again. "And you know I'm afraid of this," she states. I can tell how hard she's trying not to _show_ it.

"This change, this uncertainty, how you don't know exactly what you're doing, possibly losing me, going to new places," I list, realizing how much sense it makes that I'm moved by her. "Yeah…" I hold her tighter, prepared for the inevitable silence between us while she thinks; while I explore this new horizon in me that I've discovered. "I know."


End file.
